Episode 19, VS7.5 - Celebrations: The Prixin Logs
by Voyager Season 7.5
Summary: Prixin is a time of rememberance, hope, and change.


prixin.htmlVIRTUAL SEASON 7.5  
episode 19  
Celebrations: The Prixin Logs  
One of the joys of working on Voyager Season 7.5 has been the truly   
collaborative nature of the project. This co-operation has been particularly   
evident during the writing of this episode. I would like to thank each one of my   
co-authors for their help in constructing The Prixin Logs. I would particularly   
like to thank Penny Proctor and Rocky. Without their invaluable assistance I   
would never have been able to proceed. cm  
Starting with our next story, we will be posting every other week.  
  
  
  
  
Celebrations: The Prixin Logs  
Compiled and Edited by: CyberMum  
  
"Neelix?"  
  
"Yes Naomi."  
  
"I was wondering if you would let me set up the candles for tonight."  
  
Neelix looked up. He was elbow deep in a bowl of compote. He'd spent the last   
hour paring, seeding, chopping and marinating the fruit that he and several   
assistants had gathered on New Hope. It was such a pleasure to have fresh   
produce at hand and he had taken advantage of the planet's bounty, producing   
innovative meals for the crew over the past few weeks. Sarexa had been a great   
help. She had provided him with several new recipes, and both he and his   
consumers (as Harry had once called them) were obviously pleased with the   
results.  
  
Naomi's question provided him with a welcome excuse to take a break. He'd been   
working non-stop all morning. Prixin celebrations would begin this evening, and   
besides having to prepare eight days of traditional culinary fare, he had to   
make sure that all the particulars of each evening's events were worked out in   
detail. Captain Janeway had put Neelix in charge of the Prixin celebrations   
years ago, and he took his job very seriously.  
  
"Oh Naomi, that would be so helpful to me." Neelix rolled his shoulders and   
stretched his arms to get the kinks out. "The candelabra is in storage locker   
number four in the pantry and the candles are in the back of the freezer."  
  
"Thanks Neelix" Naomi said. "I just love our Prixin traditions, and I think the   
candles are so pretty. I'll get it organized right now."  
  
"Be very careful back there," Neelix warned her. "I've stored some extra bags of   
moolt spice in the front of the cupboard. I'm going to need it very soon now,"   
he added. He glanced quickly at the two bottles of Stavorian Delight Cordial   
standing innocently on the counter and shuddered, thinking of the havoc they   
could wreak without proper handling. Voyager's kitchens could be as hazardous   
as...as engineering, he thought.  
  
Naomi was already in the pantry. He heard the locker open.  
  
"I see it. I'll bring it to you, Neelix." The whispery rustle of the bag of   
spices was quickly superceded by the sounds of scrapes and bumps and a quickly   
suppressed 'oomph'.  
  
"Got it."  
  
Naomi emerged triumphantly from the pantry, a bulky parcel wrapped in a tattered   
quilted blanket cradled gently in her arms, the spice bag dangling from a loop   
around her wrist. She set her burden down on the counter and crossed behind   
Neelix to the cold storage units in the corner of the galley. She opened the   
freezer door and crouched down on her haunches.  
  
"I've got the candles too," she said.  
  
"Where shall I set up?"  
  
"Why don't you decide, Naomi." Neelix was busy untying the spice bag.  
  
Naomi stood still for a moment, surveying the mess hall. The room was lit by   
natural sunlight - an unlooked for benefit of being planet bound. The choice was   
obvious. Naomi moved one of the smallest tables until it was under the largest   
porthole - or should that be a window, she wondered - and stepped back. Perfect,   
she decided. She retrieved her package and the candles and brought them to the   
table.  
  
"Are you going to make trove bars too, Neelix?" Naomi asked him over her   
shoulder.  
  
"Of course, Sweeting," Neelix replied.  
  
"Oh goody." She grinned. It wouldn't be Prixin without them. "Just checking   
Neelix."  
  
Neelix smiled. Her enthusiasm delighted him. In spite of her Ktarian maturity,   
Naomi was in some ways still very much a child.  
  
She unwrapped the candelabra. It was made of a silvery alloy in the shape of an   
equilateral triangle, and shone brightly in the sunlight. In the evening it   
would reflect the dancing flames of the lighted candles. She opened up the box   
of tapers and gently spilled them out onto the table. Naomi took the tallest   
candle, a thick white one, and placed it carefully in the center of the   
triangle. She then arranged the rest of them - red, blue and green ones - each   
in its appropriate place. Neelix had explained it to her many years ago. The   
triangle represented the three aspects of life - past, or Memory; present, or   
Gratitude; and future, or Hope. The white candle, the anchor, was Family.  
  
Neelix had also explained that in Talaxian families, Prixin lasts all day for   
each of the eight days of the festival. But when the USS Voyager and her crew   
adopted the holiday as their own, some modifications had to be made. So the   
celebrations had been reduced to evening ceremonies and functions.  
  
Tonight, the first night, would be the Night of Convocation. Captain Janeway   
would light the first candle - the white family one, which would burn for the   
entire eight days. She would speak to the assembled crew, and would invite them   
to enjoy the week. And it was 'grab bag' night. Everyone had to make something -   
no replicating was allowed, although the materials they used could themselves be   
replicated.  
  
Some of the gifts were very funny. Naomi had always loved watching everyone open   
their gifts. It was so much fun to try to guess who had made what. Sometimes she   
and Neelix would have a secret contest to see who could guess the most   
correctly. This year she thought she'd try to get Icheb to do some guessing too.  
  
"I'm done Neelix." Naomi walked back toward the kitchen to where the Talaxian   
was back into the compote. "What do you think?"  
  
Neelix looked up and gazed at Naomi's handiwork.  
  
"Why Naomi, that's just perfect," Neelix said.  
  
"The crew will be able to see the candles whether they're inside or out."  
  
"Thanks Neelix. That's what I thought. It will be easy to move the table to   
center of the room when we do the ceremonies, and move it back to the window   
after we're done. And thanks for letting me do it, too. I know how special   
Prixin is to you. I've got to go," she continued.  
  
"I've got something I need to do."  
  
"My pleasure Naomi, you know I love to have you help me..."  
  
But Naomi was already gone.  
  
  
  
  
  
Personal log: Cadet Naomi Wildman. Stardate: 54994  
  
I hope there are songs tonight. I love the Prixin songs. I've been trying to   
teach some of them to Icheb but he says singing is unnecessary. I think it's   
because his singing is not exactly - well, he doesn't sing as well as he   
does some other things.  
  
Prixin will be very different this year. First of all, we're on a planet.   
I've never been on a planet for this long before. As a matter of fact I've   
only been off of Voyager a few times. Of course I sometimes I go out on the   
'Flyer with Tom, but that doesn't really count. I once went on an away   
mission with Mom. She got special permission from the Captain to take me   
with her. It was a beautiful planet - there was a beach and we collected   
stones and shells on the shore. I still have all of them in a jar beside my   
bed. Sometimes when I open the jar I can almost smell the sea air and salt   
water. I think I'll give one of the shells to Icheb for Prixin. I understand   
about not getting married so quickly, I really do. But he's my special one,   
I know it. And I know he knows it too.  
  
Pause recording.  
  
Naomi paused the computer and clambered onto her bed. She reached for the glass   
container she had described, searched through the shells and stones it held   
until she found the one she sought, fished it out and brushed it on the   
bedcovers. Its muted pastel hues were enhanced by her gentle buffing, and she   
studied it for a moment as it sat in the palm of her hand. She placed carefully   
on her bedside table and returned to her desk.  
  
Resume recording:  
  
And of course this year we will have a guest for Prixin. A representative   
from the Grevel-Ash. Her name is Falon Col. I think she's a teacher, but I'm   
not sure. I wonder what she teaches. I wonder what she'll think of us.  
  
I wonder if this will be the last Prixin we celebrate together. Everyone   
seems to think we'll get to Earth soon. Maybe we could celebrate it anyhow -   
even after we get back. It could be like a yearly reunion - we could all see   
each other and catch up and stuff. I want to get to Earth, I mean home, I   
really do. I can't wait to meet my Dad, and my cousins and my grandparents.   
I'll get to really go to Star Fleet Academy. But it's funny because I'm sort   
of nervous about it. I haven't even told this to Mom. Or to Icheb. But I   
think of Voyager as my home. And I'm going to miss it very much when our   
trip is over.  
  
It was nice of Neelix to let me set up the candles. I know the Prixin   
traditions mean so much to him. He told me last year that the second and   
third days - the Days of Remembrance - are the hardest for him. I think   
they're hard on the Captain too. I watched her last year when she lit the   
red candle, the Memory candle. I thought about some of the people that Mom   
has told me about who have died. I don't remember many of them - but I do   
remember Ensign Kaplan. She used to read to me sometimes. And I still miss   
Seven. I guess those days of Memory are difficult for everyone. Maybe I'll   
mention that during the third day recitations.  
  
End personal log.  
  
Naomi deactivated the computer and leaned back in her chair. She had helped   
Neelix, finished her latest assignment from the Doctor, completed her log entry   
and made her bed. A thoroughly satisfactory morning.  
  
And Mom will be happy too - she grinned at the thought.  
  
The New Hope sun shone brightly through the portal over her bed, a long stream   
of light casting prismatic reflections onto her desk. She still had to make   
something for tonight's grab bag. But what? She gazed outside. She could see   
various members of Voyager's crew going about their business. Some carried   
pieces of equipment to and fro. Others had their hands full of produce - Neelix   
will be pleased with the harvest, she thought. She spotted Icheb chatting with   
Vorik, and the day got even brighter.  
  
"I'm going out there," she said out loud. "It's too nice a day to just sit   
inside. And besides," she thought to herself, "maybe the sunshine will inspire   
me. I bet I'll think of something out there."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Personal Log of Professor Falon Col:  
  
I record this from the alien ship known as "Voyager," in the private cabin   
they have assigned to me. Their Chief Medical Officer assures me that there   
are no finer quarters available. I deem them acceptable but lacking in the   
amenities that are the hallmark of Grevel-Ash hospitality. There is no style   
that I can discern; everything appears to be functional but nothing more.   
The furniture has been placed without regard for the aura of the space.   
There is not even an attempt to use color to create an atmosphere. And worst   
of all, there is no ambient music unless expressly ordered although, after   
reviewing the selections available on their databank, that may be wise after   
all. I encountered something called "Bagpipes" that sounded like animals   
being tortured. Fortunately, I located a category entitled   
"Renaissance/Chanson" that was reminiscent of the Trollan Era of courtmusic   
at home.  
  
Home. It is a full three months before this tour of duty will be over and I   
can be home again. When the Dean informed me that I had been selected again   
for this assignment, I could have wept. The Treaty Planet is isolated and   
primitive and the only way to get here is by military transport. I fully   
understand our need to maintain our place in the rotation of guardianship,   
but why an academic ecologist such as myself must remain on the planet   
during our watch is incomprehensible to me. I think we do it only because   
the Minenne do it, and who knows why the Minenne do anything. Thankfully,   
during this rotation, the Senate wants more than ecological reports; they   
want updates on the progress this Voyager is making in its repairs and they   
want me to monitor their exploitation of the planet's resources to assure   
that they do not violate their agreement. To that end, they petitioned   
Voyager's captain to allow me to live on the ship instead of that miserably   
primitive cabin in the woods I was forced to live in last time.  
  
Voyager's captain is named Kathryn Janeway. She and her senior staff were   
present to greet me when I arrived, showing that they have at least a   
rudimentary understanding of protocol and courtesy. They look remarkably   
like we Grevel-Ash, except that they are hirsute, more so even than the   
Gunrath'u, although at least the Gunrath'u have a better sense of color. The   
colors of hair seem to be limited to variations on brown, black or yellow.   
But so much of it, and worn in so many variations! The captain's hangs to   
her shoulders, with no ornamentation or visible dressing. And it sheds. I   
saw a stray hair on her shoulder. The men do not seem to keep theirs as long   
but on most of them it seems to be quite thick. The exception was the   
civilian, the one called Neelix. He had hair on his face, hair that stuck   
outwards and hair that dripped down his back.  
  
It was all quite disgusting, but I congratulate myself that I kept my   
reactions hidden. I had a few bad moments wondering how I would be able to   
respond to the guest spouse they offered when Captain Janeway said that   
ordinarily that shaggy Neelix would be my liaison. For a moment I could not   
breathe. Then she said that unfortunately, he was going to be busy the next   
few days and would I mind if her Chief Medical Officer served as my liaison   
officer?  
  
I almost collapsed in relief; he had less hair than anyone else in the room.   
He also, I noticed, had less odor. The others did not smell unpleasant, but   
they did each have a distinctive scent. The physician had none.  
  
Nor did he have a name. It took a few moments for me to understand that this   
ship's Chief Medical Officer is a hologram and yet treated as a member of   
the crew. Obviously their holography technology is far beyond our own. He is   
interactive, fully mobile and apparently sentient. Captain Janeway   
apparently holds him in high regard and I could tell she meant no insult in   
offering me an artificial life form as a guest spouse.  
  
"How should I address you?" I asked him.  
  
"'Doctor' will suffice," he told me. I have to admit, I liked his voice. It   
resonated more vibrantly than that of most Grevel-Ash males, even my beloved   
Crolis.  
  
Captain Janeway said, "I'm afraid you've arrived at a rather busy time for   
us. Besides working on repairing the ship, we're about to begin a holiday   
celebration. You are more than welcome to join us if you wish."  
  
"Oh? What is the holiday?"  
  
"Prixin," Neelix told me eagerly. "It's an eight day celebration of family."  
  
"Eight days?" I asked, thinking that I had found the explanation for the   
slowness in repairs. These people set festivals above work. They are either   
very devout or very hedonistic.  
  
"It's a Talaxian holiday," Neelix continued. "Perhaps you've heard of it."  
  
"I'm afraid not." Honestly. The Federation that was Voyager's home was   
closer to Grevel-Ash than Talaxia and I'd never heard of it; why would he   
think I had heard of his holiday? "We have no eight day holidays in my   
culture."  
  
Commander Chakotay seemed to understand my point. "We have nightly   
ceremonies but work continues as usual during the day."  
  
"Although the holiday spirit does seem to affect everyone," Captain Janeway   
added with a smile. "Unfortunately, it also forces us to be very efficient   
when we are at work. With your permission, the Doctor will escort you to   
your quarters and then give you a tour of the ship."  
  
And so, here I am. The Doctor left me to unpack and freshen up before   
returning for my tour. He has also offered to escort me to this evening's   
opening Prixin ceremony. I believe I shall go. Fortunately, I packed my new   
dress feather, the one that's deep blue, in case there was a formal occasion   
on the military transport.  
  
I am somewhat confused, though, as I can find no personal articles for the   
guest spouse in these quarters. Perhaps a hologram requires none.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Joe Carey leaned back in his chair and nodded twice before glancing at Vorik.   
"Well?"  
  
Vorik raised an eyebrow. "You were correct, lieutenant. It seems by modifying   
Voyager's shields to emit a neutrino bubble that is supported by the shielding   
of the Zornon..."  
  
"Vorik, I know all that. Look around. We did it." Joe stood and made a sweeping   
gesture with his hand to indicate the frozen holoimage of the bridge. "We have a   
working slipstream."  
  
"I must remind you, lieutenant, that there are still significant problems."  
  
Joe knew. After six adjustments, the simulated ship still tumbled out of the   
slipstream after five minutes. "Tell me...Wait," he raised a hand, "I don't mean   
literally. The structural integrity fails, and to get it to work requires a lot   
of energy."  
  
"I have calculated that the slipstream and all the support components, would   
effectively drain Voyager of all her power reserves after seven point four two   
minutes."  
  
Joe grimaced at that figure, but countered with another number. "We did travel   
fifteen hundred light years. We could do a series of small steps. Even if we   
only traveled one thousand light years at a time, we would still be home within   
the year."  
  
"That is one possibility. There is also the matter of the benamite, a highly   
unstable energy source."  
  
"We were able to mine enough kolander ore for three or four tries."  
  
"The process of converting kolander to benamite takes several weeks."  
  
"Vorik, you're just stating the obvious. I know this." Joe smiled. Converting   
the ore to benamite was going to be easier than getting permission to mine for   
it in the first place. The politics involved in just getting permission from the   
four governments had been complicated. Then the colonel the Minenne military had   
sent to observe Voyager's progress had apparently not been happy that B'Elanna   
was indisposed. Joe smiled. They now had the ore. That's what counted.  
  
Vorik shook his head. "I have noticed humans have a tendency to gloss over   
problems and concentrate on what works. This is what got us in trouble last time   
we attempted to use the slipstream technology."  
  
Joe picked up the PADD he'd been entering the data in. "This time we aren't in a   
hurry. And we'll be traveling at a slower velocity. Fifteen trips and we're   
home. Think about it." He'd see Annie soon, and his kids. Would they even know   
who he was? He tapped his combadge. "Carey to Lieutenant Torres. It worked."  
  
  
  
  
  
Lieutenant Joe Carey's personal log stardate 54995.3.  
  
After meeting with Lieutenant Torres, I returned to repairs on Voyager's   
hull. External repairs have progressed faster than expected. The captain has   
asked for a test of space-worthiness-before we actually try to leave New   
Hope. The Vordai have finally agreed to our request to use their space dock.   
Fortunately the Vordai representative who relayed the message to us was only   
on the screen. The restrictions on personnel who can work in the space dock   
are pretty extensive, and Lieutenant Torres was furious.  
  
I've spent my free time going over the data from the ersatz Dauntless and   
our one failed attempt with the modified slipstream. I come away wishing the   
transwarp coil hadn't been fried. It's now just a solid puddle of metals. We   
could stumble across another working coil, or take the 15 years to get home.   
It beats 75, but it is still too long. I could be a grandfather by then.  
  
The slipstream technology is problematic, with an unpleasant history...But,   
I'm to make a presentation to the Captain after the Prixin festivities. I   
need to prove to her that it is safe, worthwhile, and feasible.  
  
Maybe I need to prove it to me too.  
  
End log.  
  
  
Joe leaned back in his chair and studied the PADD. "So, what if we increase   
the amplitude..." His voice faded with frustration at the results. "I have   
eight days to get this to work..." His combadge chirped.  
  
"Carey here."  
  
"I'm sorry to disturb you," Neelix said. "But I was hoping you were planning   
to come to the Prixin opening ceremonies."  
  
"I'll be there Neelix, don't worry. I wouldn't miss it for the world."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Voyager's mess hall was filled almost to overflowing. Only members of the   
skeleton duty crew were missing, and the ship-wide communications system was   
open so that they too could feel part of the Prixin opening ceremonies.  
  
The small table holding the unlit candelabra had been moved to the center of the   
room, and a box of long wooden matches had been placed beside it.  
  
Neelix had set up the buffet in front of the mess-hall windows and the   
multi-hued rays of the New Hope sunset provided a colorful backdrop to the   
display of culinary delights arranged upon it. He hovered proudly and rather   
possessively in front of the table, rearranging a platter here, moving a tray   
there, and trying with a surprising degree of success to prevent people from   
sampling anything before it was time.  
  
"Neelix, you have outdone yourself this year." He turned quickly to greet the   
Captain, who was standing in front of a plate of trove bars at the far end of   
the buffet, her hands clasped tightly behind her back, as if she was trying to   
resist taking one.  
  
"They turned out very well this year, Captain," he said, following her gaze. "I   
used chocolate to give them a richer taste."  
  
"So I see," she said.  
  
"They look delicious." She grinned at him. "Don't worry Neelix, I wouldn't dare   
take one now. I promise I'll wait until dessert."  
  
She glanced up and out the window at the rapidly setting sun.  
  
"It's time," Janeway said, and Chakotay, who had come up to join them nodded in   
agreement.  
  
Neelix picked up a small triangle, made of the same alloy as the candelabra, and   
handed it to the captain along with a matching beater. She turned and along with   
Chakotay and Neelix made her way through the crowded mess hall to the table in   
the center. Janeway stood quietly for a moment, surveying the room.  
  
She smiled as she watched her crew, no she thought, her family, together -   
comfortable and at home with one another, sharing in the anticipation of   
tonight's celebration.  
  
She raised the triangle and struck it carefully three times. The pure   
penetrating sparkle of sound carried across the room and the response was   
immediate. The crowd turned towards her, hushed and expectant.  
  
She smiled at them and began the convocation.  
  
"Welcome, all of you. Family and friends," she began, acknowledging Falon Col   
with a slight nod.  
  
"We, Voyager's family of the stars, are gathered here tonight to begin the   
festival of Prixin. We have traveled many light years since our last   
celebration, and we have many more to travel before we reach our goal. Tonight,   
and in the nights to come, we will remember those who are no longer with us; we   
will honor our families and our friends who are with us in person and in spirit;   
and we will celebrate our future and the future of our children."  
  
Janeway paused, turned and picked up the box of matches. She removed one of them   
and struck it carefully. It spluttered for a moment and burst into flame. She   
held it, protecting the flame almost tenderly, over her cupped palm. She began   
the traditional Prixin recitation:  
  
"We light the candles of Prixin with joy and with sorrow.  
With laughter and with tears.   
We light the candles of Prixin with trust in tomorrow.   
With hope and with fears.   
We light the candles of Prixin with pain and with pleasure   
With faith and with pride   
We light the candles of Prixin. Together. We treasure   
The light they provide."  
  
Janeway touched the burning match to the wick of the thick white center candle   
and it caught immediately, blazing momentarily upwards and then settling back   
down to a steady flame. She blew out the match and waited until it cooled before   
putting it down on the table.  
  
"We are celebrating our seventh Prixin together," Janeway continued. "And over   
the years, as you know we have developed a few of our very own first night   
traditions."  
  
There were a few titters of anticipatory laughter from the back of the crowd and   
a couple of suspicious coughs from one of the far corners of the room. Janeway   
couldn't quite suppress her own grin.  
  
"Each year," she addressed Falon Col, who was standing beside the EMH, wearing a   
very large feather and looking rather disapproving "we begin our festivities   
with a song. And this year I have been given the privilege of choosing the song   
leader. Our own EMH, who is an accomplished musician, has often led us in this   
part of our program. The Doctor, who had puffed up in pride at the mention of   
his name, looked as if he would burst.  
  
"But this year, I thought we'd give someone else a chance." Janeway continued   
quickly, before the Doctor could interrupt.  
  
"Commander Chakotay?" Janeway turned around to look for her first officer. "I   
think it's your turn, don't you?"  
  
The crew erupted in laughter. Everyone knew the captain had been trying to get   
the commander to sing during talent night for years. She had often been heard to   
say that if she could dance as a dying bird, the least he could do was warble.   
So far he had been able to avoid all her ploys. But she'd gotten him tonight,   
and he knew it.  
  
Chakotay made his way through the crowd and came to stand beside the captain.   
His expression was pained, but stoic. He held up his hands in submission and   
glanced quickly down at Kathryn Janeway who was making no effort to hide her   
glee.  
  
"All right, all right," he said as the laughter subsided. "Here's what we'll do.   
You're divided into three sections. I'll start - section one comes in after the   
first line, section two, after the second, section three after the third. You   
all know this one. Are you ready?"  
  
He didn't give them any time to respond but began immediately:  
  
"Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream...."  
  
  
  
  
  
Personal Log, Neelix, Delta Quadrant Ambassador. Stardate 54996.9  
  
Whew! I'm exhausted. This log won't be a long one. But the first night of   
Prixin was a great success, even if I have to say so myself. Mind you, the   
Captain told me at least three times how pleased she was, and even Commander   
Tuvok complimented me on my Vulcan Mocha.  
  
Commander Chakotay was a good sport tonight. He got everyone into the mood   
right away with his first song. By the third one, something I believe he   
called "When Irish Eyes are Smiling" everyone was singing along with him.  
  
The grab bag gifts were lovely this year. I think almost everyone used   
something from New Hope as part of their gift. Naomi wove a small basket   
from the lestil grasses that grow on the slopes of the hills just outside   
our compound. She filled it with flowers. Marla Gilmore got it. Harry Kim   
carved a whistle from plent wood. B'Elanna drew that one. She said it was a   
perfect gift and that she's going to use it to wake Tom when it's his turn   
to do three a.m. feedings. The Captain painted a small picture of the river   
bank. I got that one. I'm going to hang it in a very special place in my   
quarters.  
  
I think everyone enjoyed my buffet tonight. I must thank Sarexa for all her   
help. I'll have to think of something special for her.  
  
I'd better go now. I've got to get up very early. Tomorrow night's dinner is   
waiting to be prepared. I will admit (in this log, only) that the formal   
dinners are more difficult for me. But I like the challenge of them. And I   
do like the way the mess hall looks in the candlelight.  
  
Neelix out.  
  
  
  
  
Prixin: Second Night. Stardate 54997  
  
Sarexa's Prixin Log - Day of Remembrance:  
  
Uh computer, begin recording.  
  
I've never kept a log before. I had a diary when I was small but it was a   
silly thing, keeping track of the clothes I wore and which of the young men   
sprouted whiskers first. But Neelix says that we surely will be on Earth for   
our next Prixin or the one after that, and I want to remember these days   
forever.  
  
We've begun Prixin; we just celebrated the second day. On this ship, Prixin   
is an annual celebration. Neelix introduced it to the crew years ago and   
they have adopted as their own ritual, honoring their families here and in   
their Alpha Quadrant. It is something they all look forward too.  
  
It has been a long time since I celebrated the season. After all, Prixin is   
about family, and what family do I have left? My parents were killed in the   
war with the Haakonians, and my brother and sister were taken by the Borg at   
the same time I was. I pray that they are dead.  
  
"Computer, pause. "  
  
Sarexa stared at nothing, remembering the last Prixin she had celebrated. The   
longer she was an individual, the more her memories returned. At first they had   
been little more than flashes or brief sensory perceptions but that last Prixin   
was suddenly clear in her mind.  
  
They had been at her grandparents' home, a large rambling place built to hold a   
large family. She was twelve, and permitted to help with the meal even though   
she hadn't reached the Age of Maturity. She'd been helping her mother with the   
meals for years. The game roasted on a spit and filled the kitchen with a rich,   
savory aroma; it was her job to keep it basted and moist. Her mother peeled and   
spiced the tubers while her Aunt Lexali prepared the moolt sauce for the   
compote. Grandmother put the finishing touches on the trove bars, reciting her   
secret recipe aloud so Sarexa could learn it. The women laughed and spoke   
easily, telling stories on themselves and their husbands as if Sarexa were one   
of them, and she had never felt so grown up.  
  
The men had trooped in from the yard. Had it been cold? She couldn't quite   
remember that, but she did remember that her brother Norixital had tried to   
sneak one of the trove bars off the cooling rack and Grandmother had slapped his   
hand. Even so, he had taken the bar. He had just reached manhood but still had   
the charming smile of a little boy and Grandmother could deny him nothing. Even   
as he chewed, he had pressed a kiss to Sarexa's forehead. "Look at you, all   
grown up," he had said. "And getting prettier every day."  
  
But that was long ago and what meager beauty she once possessed had been taken   
by the Borg, along with her family. Voyager's Doctor had worked miracles with   
her appearance, but when she looked in the mirror, she still saw the scars.  
  
Resume recording. Neelix has been in his element for days as we   
prepared all the traditional foods. Actually, 'traditional' means something   
a little different on this ship than at home. Besides the fruit compote (and   
the Captain has already asked me to make sure it doesn't get quite so   
fermented this year), dusky tubers and trove bars, we have also prepared a   
vat of plomeek soup, two pans of hasperat, five dozen Bolian wheat cookies   
and six apple pies. Samantha and Naomi Wildman have promised to bring a   
Ktarian pudding and Lt. Paris volunteered to bring something called   
'bloodwine confit,' which he swears is a Klingon side dish at festive   
occasions. I'd feel better about it if Lt. Torres had been the one who   
offered it."  
  
Pause recording.  
  
Could Valexa still be alive? Her baby sister would be only twelve years old.   
Sarexa wondered if she was possibly in a maturation chamber. Valexa had been so   
bright, so full of energy, surely, she thought, she must still be   
alive...unless...Unless her cube has been destroyed or the assimilation process   
failed or the virus destroyed her or the Queen sent her on a hopeless task.  
  
There was no way to know. And somehow, it was more comforting to think of her as   
alive, even if she were a drone. That way she could still hope for Valexa's   
liberation.  
  
Record again. Tonight was the Recitation. I don't know how they have done it   
before, but they tell me this year was different. When we entered the   
holodeck, it looked like one of the more expensive resorts on Talax, the   
kind that were always in the newsvids. All the tables and chairs had been   
pushed aside leaving a large open space. A small wooden table with the   
Prixin candelabra stood alone in the center. The anchor Family candle was   
still glowing and only slightly smaller than it was the day before.  
  
Just about everyone arrived on time, but Neelix wouldn't begin until Captain   
Janeway and Commander Chakotay arrived. 'We have to wait,' he whispered to   
me. 'We need the Captain here.'  
  
The two of them arrived only a few minutes after the appointed time. I don't   
know Captain Janeway well yet, but I thought she looked tense. Well, the   
Recitation can be difficult for people; I know I was fairly keyed up about   
it.  
  
As soon as he saw them, Neelix called out above the buzz of conversation.   
'All right, everyone. The Captain has arrived. We can begin now. I want   
everyone to make a big circle.'  
  
A lot of eyes rolled at that, looking from one to another in surprise, but   
no one protested. We collected in what was more or less a circle; probably   
more of a wavy oval because of the shape of the room. If we had been a   
circle, I realized that the Captain, Tom and B'Elanna, the Commander and I   
would have been the compass points: I at south, the Captain at east, Tom and   
B'Elanna opposite me at the north point, and Chakotay at due west.  
  
Then Lt. Ayala stepped to the center and waited for quiet. This year, Neelix   
asked him to act as the Honorary Elder; until recently, he thought his   
entire family was dead but he found out a few months ago that his son is   
alive after all. That is worth celebrating, indeed.  
  
He's usually nervous when he has to speak in public, so I was surprised that   
he seemed so comfortable in the role of Elder. When the room was still, he   
began the invocation: 'In the arms of family, we stand together to honor   
those who have departed since we last gathered here.' Then he bent, striking   
an old-fashioned wooden match, and lit the red candle of Remembrance.  
  
That was when I realized that he wasn't holding a PADD. Had he memorized the   
names of the honored dead? We all gave our lists to Neelix last week, so he   
could collate them - each name is to be read only once. This was when the   
Elder should have begun the recitation of the names of those we had lost in   
the past year.  
  
But the Lieutenant suddenly looked tense. His shoulders tightened and his   
jaw got that clenched looked it usually does when he's charged with speaking   
to a group. 'We're going to do something different,' he said. 'Sarexa tells   
us that in her province, the Elder didn't read a list of names.'  
  
I hadn't talked to him at all, so this surprised me; but I had discussed   
this with Neelix. He is a sweet man.  
  
The Lieutenant reached down and plucked the burning red taper from its   
place. 'We're going to pass this candle around. As you hold it, it's your   
turn to speak the name of someone to honor. If you have no one to name, or   
if your honoree has already been named, pass it on.'  
  
People shifted as they stood, some dismayed, some simply surprised. I have   
to admit, I was close to tears. This was like the ceremonies I remembered   
from my childhood, ceremonies I had watched when I was too young to   
participate. My hand shook a little as I accepted the burning candle.  
  
There was so much I wanted to say, so many names I could have said. But we   
are each allowed only one, and the one name in my heart leapt to my lips. 'I   
remember Norixital, my brother, who died fighting the Borg.'  
  
I held the candle for a moment, watching the tiny flame dance in the air.   
The fire was almost living, and I fancied that my brother breathed on it and   
caused it to grow for the briefest of moments. Then I passed the candle to   
Neelix, who passed it silently to the person next to him.  
  
It went on, hand to hand, until it reached Tuvok. 'I remember Ken Dalby,' he   
said.  
  
That surprised me, and not only me. Everyone knew Tuvok's father had died   
recently, and expected to hear that name. Neelix says that Tuvok is a very   
private person; perhaps he was unwilling to share that much with us. I don't   
think it mattered. All around the circle, people nodded their approval, some   
with moist eyes. Commander Chakotay had the oddest expression on his face,   
as if he confused and grateful in equal parts. There is still much I have to   
learn about Humans and Vulcans.  
  
As the candle passed, more names were spoken. It was Billy Telfer, I think,   
who remembered Mortimer Harren; Trish Gallagher spoke the name of George   
Redman; Luke Ashmore, had tears running down his cheeks but his voice didn't   
waver as he recalled the name of his wife, Beth. Jim Morrow recalled his   
grandmother, and Lora Jenkins an uncle. Then the candle came to B'Elanna.   
She shifted the baby to one arm to receive it and then she said quietly,   
'Miral.'  
  
For a moment I thought she meant the baby and I was confused, but then I   
remembered that she had named her daughter after her mother. I hadn't known   
her mother was dead.  
  
Tom was next, and holding his wife's gaze, he said, 'Ramon Hernandez.' This   
surprised me, too, because I didn't think he remembered Mr. Hernandez - no,   
Commander Hernandez - at all. Then B'Elanna smiled at him, and I realized he   
had spoken the name for her, because she had two to remember.  
  
The candle moved on, through Harry Kim's hands and on to others, pausing for   
the names Dorrance and Kiran until it reached Captain Janeway. She held it   
for two, maybe three seconds before speaking. 'I honor the memory of Korok,'   
she said, "who watches us from Sto-Vo-Kor.'  
  
I swallowed hard.  
  
The candle moved on its way, and more names were recited. Baytart. Mitchell.   
Then the candle came to the Doctor's hands. He looked at it as if   
questioning his right to participate, then said, 'Lynella.' He turned   
quickly to hand the candle to our guest, Professor Col, and I expected her   
to pass it on to the next person. But she held it and looked around the   
circle, her chin held high.  
  
For an instant I thought she was going to tell us that we were all fools,   
but then she said, 'Floran,' and passed the candle on. I had no idea who   
Floran was or what he or she had been to the envoy, but I raised a quick   
prayer as the candle moved from person to person.  
  
It quickly reached Commander Chakotay. He had the appearance of someone who   
would remain silent, but then he looked at the Captain and paused. Their   
eyes locked for two heartbeats and then he said, 'Emanni,' and the Captain   
smiled as he passed the candle on.  
  
There were only a few people between him and me, and the candle finished its   
circuit with no more names spoken. Lt. Ayala took it from me and returned it   
to its place. The two candles, white and red, burned together in a silence   
that broken only by the rustle of clothing.  
  
Sarexa sighed and wiped a stray tear from one eye.  
It was a lovely ceremony, and I think everyone was affected by it. If the   
next six nights go as well, it will be the best Prixin I can remember.   
Tomorrow night should be interesting, but to tell the truth, I'm really   
looking forward to the Days of Honoring. Neelix tells me that the Fourth   
Night party is always a good way to tell which couples are getting together   
and which are about to break up. It was that way at home, I think - I   
remember my Aunt saying that all you have to do is watch how people stand   
during the ceremony; couples that are beginning or strong stand close, even   
touching, while couples on the path to separation stand apart and aloof.   
Neelix predicted that Lt. Kim and Ensign Gilmore would stand together, as if   
that were a secret. Anyone with sight can tell that they are in love, and   
why not? This crew has been together a long time and it seems natural that   
people would pair off. Actually, considering how long they've been away from   
home, I'm a little surprised there aren't more married couples.  
  
Neelix also told me that I should keep my eyes on Jenny Delaney and Hugh   
Murphy - they're going to separate soon, he said. I don't understand that.   
They seem very affectionate together. And, he said to watch Angelo Tessoni   
and Tal Celes, because they are getting serious but I don't know why he says   
that. It's true, they spend a lot of time together, but they almost never   
touch and sometimes Celes cannot even look Angelo in the eye.  
  
So I asked him about Captain Janeway and Commander Chakotay, and he looked   
shocked. He never likes it when I ask about them. If I didn't know better, I   
might think he had a secret affection for her. He says that it's   
unthinkable, that the Captain would never get involved with a fellow   
officer, but it's as plain on the whiskers on his face that those two belong   
together.  
  
There are things about Humans I will never understand. I think I prefer the   
Talaxian way. If you like someone, you show it. If you love someone, you   
tell them. It makes life much simpler.  
  
Pause recording.  
  
Was she right about that? Neelix was very affectionate with her, in a very   
brotherly way. He made no attempt to hide his friendship for her, but was it   
possible he had picked up Human habits? And what about her? She loved Neelix   
like a father, or a brother. That was all. Wasn't it? It there were other   
Talaxians around, perhaps it would be easier to tell. Being the only two on the   
ship - the only two in thousands of light years - it was harder to decide. She   
didn't want to think she was in love with Neelix just because he was close at   
hand.  
  
One thing about the Collective, she had never had to waste time trying to   
analyze her feelings. It was hard to be an individual again. It was hard to find   
a way to belong without being a single mind. It was hard to know how to define   
shades of emotions. She shook her head.  
  
Resume recording. I may not know what happened to my blood relatives, but   
Neelix is my family now, and for that I am grateful. I need to close this   
and return to the mess hall. We still have to finish the casseroles for   
tomorrow and begin the decorating. There's so much to do!  
  
End recording.  
  
  
  
  
  
Late Evening - Day 2:  
  
"That was a nice piece of music you played with Sue Nicoletti tonight," Noah   
said as a subdued crew filed into the corridors at the close of the first Day of   
Remembrance observance. "It sounded familiar. What was it?"  
  
"It was a transcription of an early 20th century choral piece. 'In Paradisium'   
from the Faure Requiem."  
  
"It was lovely, Harry," Marla agreed, giving his arm a little squeeze.  
  
"Thanks. I've always loved the melody, and I thought it would sound even more   
mellow on the clarinet. Sue and I enjoyed putting it together."  
  
"You did it yourselves?" Tal Celes asked.  
  
"Yes, we did."  
  
"It fit with the Recitation perfectly," Tabor said. Other members of the crew   
who were nearby agreed, many also complimenting Harry for his part in the   
musical presentation, before everyone began to drift off to their quarters.   
Harry wasn't surprised. The second night of Prixin was always the most solemn of   
all, especially when the names of those lost during the year were read. The   
change to having the crew offer the names up themselves, instead of having the   
Elder read them, was especially moving, he thought.  
  
He accompanied Marla down the corridor, not paying much attention to those   
around him, since he was concentrating on how beautiful his partner's hair was,   
sparkling even in the dim light of their surroundings. When he reached Marla's   
quarters he realized that the only ones still with them were the other four   
Equinox survivors. Contrary to his expectations, they did not move onward when   
Harry and Marla stopped in front of her door. For a few awkward seconds,   
everyone looked around at everyone else without saying anything, while Harry   
devoutly wished they'd leave so that he and Marla could step inside by   
themselves. Finally, Noah Lessing said, "Harry, would you like to come in with   
us?"  
  
Nonplussed that Noah would think Harry would be the one to leave, Harry asked,   
"Are you having a nightcap or something?"  
  
The others all chuckled softly. Jimmy Morrow finally explained, "We're going to   
hold our own Prixin Recitation tonight, Harry. We didn't understand what Prixin   
was all about last year. This year, we intend to make up for lost time."  
  
Harry looked at Marla. From her expression, she seemed to want him to stay.   
After nodding slightly, he followed the Equinox Five into Marla's quarters.  
  
A tiny red candle, much smaller than the one the Captain had lit at the main   
ceremony, sat on the table, awaiting the touch of a match to come alive.  
  
Personal log-Lieutenant Harry Kim-Stardate 54998  
  
Prixin always gets to me, but tonight was special. Not just because Marla   
was with me (although that was part of it, I guess), but because I   
understood more tonight, from the ceremony after the ceremony, about what   
the Recitation can do for you. It provides a way to finally say good-bye, to   
deal with loss and to accept that while some are left behind, others go on.  
  
Noah acted as elder and read all the names as the survivors of the Equinox   
had their own Recitation. It was more like the way we always handled things   
before, not the way we did it this year - but that seemed right, somehow.   
All of the people whose names he read had died years before this last   
one-most of them, right after the Equinox was pulled into the Delta   
Quadrant, right around the time we were on Voyager. The Equinox was such a   
small ship already. Losing half of its crew within days of coming here was   
such an unbelievable loss in itself. And then they encountered those aliens   
who killed the rest, other than our Equinox Five who survived because   
Captain Ransom sent them here when he sacrificed himself.  
  
Listening to Noah reading the names tonight and listening while the five of   
them swapped stories about their lost comrades made me understand what the   
crew of the Equinox really went through, before and after they met up with   
us. I understand a little better why Marla keeps saying we should just 'live   
in the moment' and not worry about the future. Living in the present and   
trying to get through each day one at a time was the only way they made it   
through.  
  
I'm not saying I can ever truly forgive Ransom for all he did. When he   
convinced Marla and Noah to go along with stealing the shield we'd developed   
to protect Voyager and the Equinox from those aliens, he almost sacrificed   
all of us for the handful of his crew that were left. Some of Voyager's crew   
were killed because of him. But if Captain Janeway had ordered me to do   
things I considered unethical, I'm not sure I wouldn't have followed her   
orders, given the same set of circumstances. I'd like to think I'd have   
refused, but I honestly don't know if I would have.  
  
So, I understand a lot better why Marla and Noah and the others could have   
remained loyal to Ransom. They still feel he was a wonderful commander until   
the Delta Quadrant stole his soul from him. Maybe they're right, but I'm   
glad I serve under Captain Janeway. Maybe she did a few things that weren't   
quite up to strict Prime Directive standards, but nothing we did compares to   
what happened on the Equinox under Ransom.  
  
I understand another thing, though. We're all going to have to stand by   
Marla and the others when we get home, to make Starfleet realize what it was   
like being out here in the Delta Quadrant, so far away from home, with most   
of the alien races indifferent at best and hostile at worst towards us. The   
five from the Equinox did the best they could, following orders and   
maintaining discipline the only way they knew to survive-through the chain   
of command. Certainly, they'll see that, and let them stay in Starfleet.  
  
But if we can't, then I'll leave Starfleet and stay with Marla. After all   
the times I lost out on love, I'm not going to lose Marla now that I've   
finally found her. I won't let it happen. I love her too much.  
  
I hope it won't come to that, though. I'll do my best to see that it   
doesn't.  
  
End log.  
  
  
  
Prixin: Day Three  
B'Elanna sighed and slipped a little deeper into the water, relishing the warmth   
as well as the scent and silky feel of the bath oil. A larger bathroom with a   
built-in bathtub was one of the perks of the new quarters she and Tom had moved   
into shortly after they'd married-quarters that had formerly been one of the   
four "ambassador suites" on Voyager. She'd taken advantage of this bathtub   
often, especially as her pregnancy had progressed. She'd sorely missed it during   
the two weeks they'd lived in the hastily raised New Hope shelter. Even after   
Miral's birth, she found she still eagerly anticipated this relaxation after a   
long day.  
  
B'Elanna sighed contentedly again, and rubbed her belly. It was still slightly   
rounded, but she was quickly regaining her former shape. Every once in a while   
she felt a odd pang for the lost feel of her baby inside her, even if Miral's   
active nature had kept her awake nights toward the end. But she loved holding   
her daughter in her arms even more, so the tradeoff was definitely worth it.  
  
B'Elanna smiled, then glanced at the dataPADD resting on the small table next to   
the tub. She stretched out an arm and pressed the record symbol with one wet   
finger.  
  
Personal Log, B'Elanna Torres reporting, Stardate 54500...  
  
Today was my first full day back in Engineering. The doctor thought it was   
too soon, but he agreed as long as I remain on light duty for another week.   
I need to participate in the repair work on Voyager, especially when there's   
still so much to be done, and I want to keep closer tabs on Joe's progress   
with the slipstream technology. With a little tinkering, I think it's going   
to work this time.  
  
Tom was all for me going back too, and not just because I threw all Miral's   
stuffed animals at him yesterday. Maybe I was being a little cranky, but he   
didn't have to say so. While Voyager remains grounded, the captain told us   
to make our own schedules to accommodate our responsibilities as new   
parents. That was nice of her, but I know Tom feels like I do. We both want   
to do our full part to get Voyager under way again. At the same time we   
don't want to leave Miral with  
others while we're both working, not when she's so young. It will be soon   
enough to work out a more permanent schedule once Voyager is space-bound   
again, and there are plenty of people who are eager to babysit-Naomi, Marla,   
Harry, Chakotay... The list is endless, so that won't be a problem. The   
doctor has already insisted that he'll take Miral whenever  
Voyager faces any potential danger. Since Sickbay is the safest place on the   
ship, Tom and I readily agreed with him. But for now, one of us will always   
be with her.  
  
I really was glad to be back in Engineering today. It felt right to be   
there, but I missed Miral. It's the first time since she was born that I've   
spent more than a few minutes away from her. Even though I knew she was here   
with Tom, I couldn't keep my mind from returning to her every few minutes,   
wondering how she was doing. By the time I came back here for lunch I was   
aching to hold her again.  
  
Imagine me, not able to keep my concentration on my engines! In fact, today   
made me realize again how much my life has changed-how much I've changed.   
For so long engineering was my only real passion. I lived and breathed it,   
and couldn't imagine making enough space in my life for anything or anyone   
else. Then Tom came along and wormed his way into my life, and now we have   
Miral. I found out that my life-my heart-stretched easily to accommodate   
them. I still love engineering, but it's not the only important thing in my   
life. It's not even the most important thing anymore.  
  
That's what this week's Prixin celebration is about-family. Tonight is the   
second night of Remembrance. It will start with a communal dinner-Neelix's   
traditional Talaxian game stew and tubers, which is actually not bad-and   
then we'll share stories and memories of the deceased members of our   
families. Last night was the Recitation, when we passed around the lit   
candle and named those we've lost during the  
past year. When the candle was passed to me, I said my mother's name with a   
small ache in my heart.  
  
Last night was a somber occasion, but tonight we'll recall the good times.   
It will be a celebration of the lives and deeds of those who've been part of   
our lives-and part of our family. I have stories to share about Beth   
Ashmore, and Mortimer Harren. I also have one about Ramon Hernandez. Even   
though he almost took Tom away from me, the sacrifice he made for Voyager in   
an effort to atone for his mistakes did restore his honor, to me anyway.  
  
I have good memories of my mother too. For a long time the bitterness and   
anger between us was so foremost in my mind that I forgot there were a lot   
of good moments too-like how she used to tuck me in bed when I was little   
and call me 'tIqoywI'-her 'little heart'-as she kissed me goodnight. And how   
she surprised me with a trip to Cavasi Ridge to see the double eclipse of   
Kessik's suns. How she held me after I nearly drowned in the Sea of Galan   
and told me she wouldn't let anything hurt me. How proud she was of me when   
I earned the top engineering scholarship in secondary school...  
  
There are more. Maybe it's holding my own daughter that has made many of   
them come back to me. I don't know if I'll share any of them tonight. Tom   
thinks I should but I've never been very comfortable sharing private things.  
  
Even though the datastream doesn't open for six more days, I already wrote   
Elizabeth a letter about Miral's birth. I'm sure she'll share the news with   
my father. I still don't know if I'll answer the letter he sent me last   
month, or what I'll say if I do, but next week he'll know he has a   
granddaughter.  
  
I wrote another letter too-to my mother. It still sounds strange to say it   
out loud. Once I would have scoffed openly at the idea. Now I find it easier   
to believe in things that have to be taken on faith, like love, and the   
spiritual realm. I asked my uncle to read the letter at our family shrine in   
the Hall of Honor. Maybe my mother really will hear my words in StoVoKor.  
  
I wanted to tell her how I felt when I first held my daughter- complete awe   
that I had produced something so miraculous, and a rush of love that welled   
up in me with such force that it hurt. The moment I looked at her I knew I   
would protect her with my life, and do whatever it took to make sure she   
grew up strong and happy. I wondered if my mother felt the same way the   
first time she held me, and I knew she had. The truth flashed in front of me   
at that moment.  
  
My mother loved me. That shouldn't be a revelation, but it took me this long   
to really understand. She wanted exactly the same things for me that I want   
for my daughter. Even when she made mistakes, and when she pushed too hard,   
she was only doing what she thought was best for me. I know I'll do my best   
for my daughter too, even if she's angry, or rebellious, or   
ungrateful-which, considering her genes, seems likely. I may not always do   
the right thing-I'm sure I won't-but it will always come from my love, and I   
know that she too will understand some day.  
  
In my letter to my mother I also thanked her for wanting so much for me, and   
for everything she tried to do for me. And for loving me. I never thanked   
her for that, not once. I wish I had. Now I know it was she who gave me the   
strength and determination that has helped me survive, and that has gotten   
me here, even if it was a rough road.  
  
I've had moments of satisfaction-even joy-in my life, but I haven't often   
been happy, not really. Not like I am now, with this deep, abiding   
contentment with my life, and this sense that I'm okay the way I am, Klingon   
and human, faults and all. I feel like I've finally made it to exactly where   
and who I should be. Who I think my mother would have wanted me to be.  
  
The Klingon tradition of naming a child after an ancestor is not just in   
honor, but in hopes that the child will inherit the qualities of the   
ancestor. I told my mother that's why I named my daughter Miral. I hope that   
my daughter will inherit my mother's strength and courage, and her ability   
to love so fiercely. Nothing would make me happier.  
  
I think mother will hear my words in StoVoKor. I really do. Then she'll know   
I did what she entreated me not long ago. I chose to live.  
  
End log.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Fifteen minutes later B'Elanna stepped out of the bathroom wearing a soft,   
flowing dress in shades of amber, sienna and royal blue. It was casual, and   
would afford her the ability to nurse Miral unobtrusively during the evening.   
The first thing she heard the sound of the television. Then she recognized her   
husband's voice.  
  
Tom was on the couch, with his legs stretched out comfortably and his daughter   
nestled in his arms. He was singing to Miral, and for a moment B'Elanna thought   
the song was something about Neelix. Then she realized he was singing in unison   
with the television, to the cartoon about the cat with a bag of tricks, Felix.  
  
"-and your heart will go pitter pat, watching Felix, the wonderful cat."  
  
Miral waved one fisted hand in the air, her gaze fixed with fascination on her   
father. Neither noticed as B'Elanna picked up the remote and turned off the   
television.  
  
"Hey!" Tom protested. He grinned at Miral. "We were watching that, weren't we,   
sweetie?"  
  
"It's time to leave," B'Elanna said. She reached down and straightened the aqua   
blanket around Miral, and brushed a finger over her daughter's downy cheek. Then   
she pecked her husband on the lips. "You can corrupt your daughter later."  
  
"Corrupt?" Tom frowned. "It's culture, not to mention history -"  
  
"Right," B'Elanna cut him off. She took Miral from Tom's arms. "Then you can   
give her a history lesson later."  
  
Miral's eyes, shaped like Tom's and for now the same blue color, followed her   
father's movements as he stood. "I just changed her," Tom said. "I'll get her   
bag."  
  
B'Elanna looked at Miral, who was still intently watching Tom. "He's already   
turning you into a daddy's girl, isn't he?" she accused her daughter.  
  
Miral gurgled in reply, and Tom grinned unabashedly as he picked up the bulky   
baby bag. B'Elanna reached out and straightened the collar of his blue shirt   
with one hand as he rejoined them. "You look nice," she said.  
  
"So do you," Tom said, his eyes warm as her perused her. "Beautiful in fact."  
  
B'Elanna smiled. "Thanks. Did you decide what you're going to say?" she asked as   
they walked toward the door.  
  
Tom nodded. "I have a couple of stories to share about Pablo."  
  
"Like how he cleaned you out that time at the monthly Helm department poker   
game?" B'Elanna asked, grinning.  
  
Tom grinned back. "He didn't clean me out...not exactly. But he did have a great   
poker face." His expression sobered as they stepped out of their quarters. "He   
really was a good guy."  
  
B'Elanna squeezed Tom's arm. Despite some animosity between them in the earliest   
days, Pablo had been Tom's second in the Helm department and the two had   
eventually become good friends. B'Elanna knew Tom would have named Pablo in the   
Recitation ceremony if she hadn't asked him to name Ramon Hernandez.  
  
Tom cleared his throat. "You ready too?"  
  
"Yes," B'Elanna replied. Before she could say more, Miral gurgled again and   
waved a hand, capturing her parents' attention. They'd reached the turbolift,   
and as they stepped in, Tom wrapped an arm around B'Elanna's waist and smiled   
over her shoulder at his daughter.  
  
"You're going to hear stories about some wonderful people tonight, Miral," Tom   
told her. "I know you won't remember them, but don't worry. When you're older,   
we'll share their stories with you. Even though they're gone now, they'll always   
be part of your family too."  
  
B'Elanna looked at Tom, and smiled. Yes, they would.  
  
"Mess hall."  
  
The turbolift began to move at Tom's command, and B'Elanna decided that maybe   
she would share a story about her mother tonight. No, make that definitely.  
  
  
  
  
Evening of Day 3 - the second of the Days of Remembrance.  
  
Neelix looked around the crowded room, at the tables arranged in a circle.   
Dinner was nearly over, and he was pleased to see that there weren't many full   
platters left on the tables. As usual, the tuber hash had been a big hit and   
this year, thanks to their presence on New Hope, they'd been able to include   
some fresh game on the menu. That last point in particular gave the meal a more   
'authentic' feel, in his opinion. Altogether, this year's celebration felt more   
like the traditional Prixin he'd experienced growing up than any of the previous   
Voyager renditions of the holiday.  
  
But he couldn't just sit here admiring his handiwork-there was a program to   
follow after all. Unlike the previous night, the mood was quite a bit lighter,   
and many people were starting to look around the room in anticipation.  
  
Neelix rose to his feet and cleared his throat. "May I have your attention,   
please?" The buzz of conversation slowly died down. "It is time for the   
Storytelling." He turned to their visiting dignitary, Falon Col. "Every year, to   
continue our Remembrance of our dearly departed, it is customary for a number of   
people to relate a story about a deceased member of the family who was special   
to them. Someone who inspired you, encouraged you, or simply helped share your   
laughter and love."  
  
An expectant rustling swept around the room. Everyone knew that the official   
Storytellers-people would also gather in informal groups later on to continue   
swapping stories through the night-had been chosen in advance. Chakotay was   
usually a favorite, due to his skill in spinning a tale; many turned toward him   
now, fully expecting him to take the center of the room and begin.  
  
Instead, after catching Neelix's eye, it was Tuvok who strode forward.  
  
"The story I have to tell is one from my childhood," Tuvok began, and then   
turned slightly to his left and addressed one individual in particular. "And   
yes, Mr. Paris, before you ask, I was indeed a child at one time." He waited for   
the inevitable rejoinder, but Tom, grinning, refused to rise to the bait.  
  
"As I was saying, the events of this story took place when I was approximately   
three years old. An only child, I lived with my mother and father, T'Meni and   
Sunak, in a small house on the edge of the desert, within easy walking distance   
of the Temple of Anorak where my father was one of the attendant priests. During   
my early years, my mother was the single most dominant force in my life. She was   
a strict disciplinarian, and I remember many instances where she took me to task   
for my behavior, in particular, to quote her exact words, 'for exhibiting a most   
un-Vulcanlike stubbornness and tendency toward illogical behavior.'  
  
"My father Sunak was often not at home, due to his duties at the Temple, but   
even when he was present, he was content to leave the running of the household   
and its details to my mother. I remember him best sitting quietly at the table   
in his study, poring over an ancient scroll, or else deep in meditation.  
  
"But I was not often in Sunak's study. The room I preferred most was my mother's   
work chamber, where T'Meni had many valuable and fascinating objects that she   
had collected over the years. One item in particular, her most prized   
possession, was an antique vase that had been passed down from mother to   
daughter for six generations, but was rumored to be even older, possibly from   
the Pre-Reformation era. This vase had a strong attraction for me. The shape of   
the base, the striking colors, and the unusual design I had seen reproduced   
nowhere else drew me like a magnet. I longed to run my hand over its curves, to   
trace the intricate patterns. But this vase stood in the place of honor, high   
upon the mantel, and quite beyond my reach.  
  
"One day T'Meni received an invitation to attend the Bonding of her second   
cousin's grandson, a young man named Stonn. I do not recall why my father and I   
did not accompany her, but I do remember the sensation of freedom I felt when I   
saw T'Meni leave and knew she would not be returning for three whole days.  
  
"It was curious that I felt this way, as I would continue to follow my regular   
schedule of lessons, and Sunak had arranged a number of sessions at various   
friends' homes during the after school hours-"  
  
"Play dates," murmured Sam Wildman.  
  
"Yes, play dates," continued Tuvok. "Regardless, my daily routine was not much   
altered, despite my mother's absence. I did not have occasion to see my father   
very much, except at mealtimes and then afterward when he put me to bed.  
  
"Early on the morning of the second day, I woke and slipped quietly downstairs.   
It was still dark outside, and I could detect no other stirrings in the house. I   
assumed Sunak was still asleep. I crept into T'Meni's work chamber, and stood in   
front of the mantel, gazing up at the antique vase. I longed to touch it, and   
then realized that now was the perfect opportunity. I dragged a chair over from   
the other side of the room, climbed upon it, and reached up. However, despite   
the chair, my stature was still insufficient. I took several large volumes off   
one of the shelves and balanced them upon the seat, then climbed up once more.   
Now at last I was able to reach the vase. Unfortunately, my balance was   
precarious, and no sooner had I gotten to the summit of the pile than I felt it   
give way beneath me. As I fell, I instinctively stuck out my hand to grab at   
something solid.  
  
"Second later, I picked myself up off the floor. I was stunned, not so much from   
the fall, as at the sight which greeted me. The vase lay beside me, broken into   
several pieces."  
  
"Oh, you poor thing," exclaimed Naomi. "Were you hurt? Did you cry?"  
  
"Vulcan children do not cry," Tuvok said reprovingly. "Infants do, of course,   
when they are hungry or in need of other care, but from a very young age   
children are taught that such untoward displays of emotion are unseemly."  
  
"So you didn't cry," said Icheb, as if making sure.  
  
"No, I did not, although I certainly had the desire to do so. I knelt there for   
a moment, breathing deeply to regain my control, and then I carefully picked up   
the broken pieces. One of the sharp edges nicked my finger, and a drop of blood   
welled up. I stuck the finger in my mouth, and then with my other hand, lay the   
pieces out on the desk in the corner, attempting to see how I might fit the   
shards together once more.  
  
"The sound of footsteps in the hallway brought my activities to a sudden halt.   
Afraid of discovery, I swept the pile into an envelope and stuffed it into a   
pigeonhole of the desk.  
  
"Sunak entered the room just then. He noticed my guilty actions immediately, and   
it did not take long to discover the absence of the vase.  
  
"'Tuvok, where is Mother's vase?'"  
  
"'I do not know, Father.'  
  
"We kept up this exchange until I swore quite emphatically that I had no   
knowledge of its whereabouts or what could have possibly happened to it. At   
that, Sunak sighed softly and said, 'As an ancient writer once stated, vehemence   
is no guarantee of the truth, my son.' He held out his hand and I gave him the   
envelope, not quite daring to meet his eyes. Sunak gently shook the pieces out   
into his hand. He held two of them together and then put them down with another   
sigh."  
  
"Did he punish you?" asked Icheb.  
  
"No, he did not, nor did he scold me," said Tuvok. "He simply chided me about   
the importance of telling the truth and of owning up to one's actions."  
  
Harry held up one hand. "Wait a minute, I could be wrong, but I thought Vulcans   
can't lie."  
  
"Maybe just when they're young, and eventually they grow out of it?" suggested   
B'Elanna.  
  
"You mean like emotions?" said Tom innocently.  
  
"We do not grow out of our emotions, " Tuvok answered. "Rather we grow into   
them, learn how to control them as opposed to having them control us."  
  
"Getting back to the story," urged Neelix, after exchanging glances with the   
captain.  
  
"Of course." Tuvok resumed. "The next day T'Meni returned from her trip and   
almost immediately I was called into her chamber. I went with trepidation,   
knowing I would be called upon to face punishment for my wrongdoing. Instead, to   
my surprise, my mother greeted me quite pleasantly and made no mention of my   
deed, nor did she seem inclined to punish me. It was only as I was leaving that   
I spotted the vase, whole once more, returned to its place on the mantel."  
  
"What? How did that happen?" several people said at once.  
  
"I can only surmise that my father must have repaired it for me, without my   
mother's knowledge," Tuvok said.  
  
"That was very nice of him," said Naomi.  
  
"Indeed it was," Tuvok said. "And it reinforced the lesson I learned, that the   
truth is always preferable to a falsehood."  
  
"Because Vulcans are aesthetically displeased by falsehoods-it's distasteful to   
them," said Harry with a wink.  
  
Tuvok frowned. "No, not at all, Mr. Kim. It is to maintain the myth that Vulcans   
are incapable of telling lies."  
  
General laughter greeted this statement.  
  
Tom straightened up and said, "I didn't know Vulcans had a sense of humor-that's   
two new things I've learned this evening about Vulcans. Or is it about Tuvok in   
particular?"  
  
"Oh, I've been aware of Mr. Tuvok's wry sense of humor for many years," Janeway   
said.  
  
"Such as?" prompted Tom.  
  
"Let's see..." the captain considered and then smiled. "How about the time two   
junior officers were displaying rather, shall we say, 'unprofessional behavior'   
while on duty." Her gaze rested on her chief engineer and flight con officer for   
just an instant. "Tuvok came up with the perfect solution-it was unfortunate I   
wasn't able to take him up on his advice."  
  
"What was that?" Tom asked warily.  
  
"He asked, 'shall I have them flogged?'" the captain turned to her security   
officer. "You were joking, weren't you, Tuvok?"  
  
Chakotay interjected hastily, "Any more to the story?"  
  
Tuvok hesitated for just an instant, as if debating adding anything further.   
"No, now it is someone else's turn."  
  
As Tuvok returned to his seat amid general comments and compliments about his   
ability as a storyteller, Neelix said aloud, "That's a skill doubtless honed in   
your many years as a parent, Tuvok. Perhaps our new parents could take some   
lessons."  
  
"Perhaps we can," B'Elanna said with a smile, as she gently stroked her baby's   
cheek.  
  
Quietly, Neelix leaned over and whispered to Tuvok, "And may you be soon holding   
your grandchildren on your knee to tell them stories."  
  
  
  
  
  
Personal log, Commander Tuvok, Stardate 54501  
With the conclusion of tonight's events, the Days of Remembrance are now   
over. I am aware that some people were surprised by my choice of Ken Dalby   
for the Remembering, instead of my father. I believe I have 'rectified' this   
omission, if indeed it was one, by my actions tonight.  
  
Death is not a tragedy, when the life that has been lived reaches its full   
measure of days, and has been lived well besides. That was the case with   
Sunak. I shall forever treasure the memory of his gentle patience, and the   
many things that he taught me throughout my childhood, and beyond.  
  
However, Ken Dalby was a young man, with so many years still ahead of him,   
even with the brief-by Vulcan standards-lifespan of Humans. Unfortunately,   
circumstances dictated otherwise. As it may for all of us, out here in the   
Delta Quadrant. Yet even if Voyager had not been carried 70,000 light years   
away, there is no guarantee that others might not have met untimely deaths   
as well.  
  
Mr. Dalby, despite starting his tenure aboard Voyager as the "Angry Maquis",   
had a certain quality of loyalty and commitment, and never hesitated to   
offer a hand in friendship. Not even to someone he had previously-and with   
good reason from his perspective-disliked. I was aware Mr. Dalby's feelings   
toward me at the beginning of our journey for what I represented-Starfleet   
rules and regulations-were compounded by the knowledge that I had been a   
spy. Many if not most of the Maquis shared those sentiments, once the truth   
was revealed. I do not assign blame for this -I would have betrayed them to   
the Federation, if only the Caretaker had not intervened. To Mr. Dalby's   
credit however, he was eventually able to put aside his feelings and serve   
with distinction.  
  
I will admit that he tried my patience in so many ways; there were times I   
doubted he would ever fit the Starfleet mold, even after completing my   
remedial training course. But after all these years on Voyager, Mr. Dalby   
was finally starting to come into his own; he had the makings of a good   
security officer, and I am confident that given time, he would have been an   
exemplary one.  
  
I do not feel guilt that Mr. Dalby is dead-guilt is a human emotion that I   
am fortunately immune to. However, I do admit to a certain regret that   
things could not have been otherwise.  
  
I have on more than one occasion spoken to the captain about the illogic of   
bearing more than one's share of responsibility, of taking on blame for   
things that have occurred during our journey. That no one individual, Human   
or Vulcan, can control all events. And yet...I understand why there are   
times she feels this way.  
  
And so I choose to remember the finer things about Mr. Dalby's life on these   
days of Prixin. To acknowledge the loss, but at the same time not to dwell   
on his death to the exclusion of his life. My people have a ritual lament-or   
perhaps it can be interpreted as a message of comfort-when informed of a   
death in the family. "I grieve with thee." On these nights of Prixin, the   
grief and the memory are truly communal.  
  
After I completed my story this evening, Mr. Neelix said he hopes I soon see   
my grandchildren. I am a Vulcan, however, and I have been taught since birth   
to control my emotions. As a result, there is no guilt, no fear-but neither   
do I have the capacity for hope.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Prixin, Day 4:  
  
Chakotay took a quick glance in the mirror and decided he was ready. He was   
dressed simply, in trousers and a shirt that would move easily and hold up to   
the vigorous exercise that was otherwise known as the Honoring Day Dance. A few   
years ago, Neelix had found something called "square dancing" in the database   
and declared it akin to Talaxian "circle dancing," a Prixin tradition. Others   
had added line dances and even some formal but lively sets. There would be more   
sedate couples dancing as well, but not until the evening was well under way.   
The number of people in the holodeck, the energy expended and the free flow of   
hard cider and syntheholic beverages always raised the temperature in the   
crowded room. He had learned years ago that this was a night to dress for   
comfort, not show.  
  
With a wry smile, he also noted the generous sprinkling of gray in his hair. One   
of his concessions to Voyager's constrained circumstances had been to cease   
replication of the protein supplement which, among other things, kept his hair   
dark. The supplement was an indulgence to his vanity that couldn't be justified   
in light of the ship's limited resources. "Well," he said aloud, "at least I   
don't look any worse than I did seven years ago."  
  
Turning back to the room, he checked the chronometer and noted that he still had   
a few minutes before Kathryn expected him. His Prixin gift to her sat on the   
table, in a small, plain box with a ribbon and he picked it up, frowning a   
little as he studied it. "Computer," he said, "open the personal log of   
Commander Chakotay, new entry."  
  
"Ready," the computer replied instantly.  
The Days of Remembrance are over, we begin the Days of Honoring in about   
half an hour. In a way, I'm sorry; the Days of Remembrance during Prixin   
have always conjured up memories of my tribe's traditional Day of the Dead   
celebration. Over the centuries we've managed to absorb traditions from the   
Aztec, Mayan, and Catholic cultures, so that my father's ritual was no less   
an adaptation than Neelix's version of Prixin for us. In the past, I have   
found the Honoring ceremony to be solemn and respectful but not cathartic,   
not like the Dia de Los Muertos at home. Until this year. This year, I could   
all but smell the cempazuchil flowers and copal incense and feel the souls   
pressing around us.  
  
Neelix changed things a little this year. I wonder if Sarexa influenced that   
or if he just realized that this year was different for us. The Honoring   
ceremony was more participative and the whole experience was more immediate   
and personal than ever before. A lot of people left the first Day of   
Remembrance in tears, but they came back to the second day all the more   
relaxed because of it. Last night's dinner was more like an Irish wake, with   
a lot of good stories and laughter, and I think everyone enjoyed themselves.   
It felt like our Dia de los Muertos celebration.  
  
Perhaps that was why I was thinking of Micteacacihuatl, the Aztec goddess   
who in ancient times was the sponsor of the Day of the Dead. She is the   
Protector of the souls on their journey from the underworld to this one. My   
people don't worship the old gods but we learn about them, and as a child, I   
imagined Micteacacihuatl to be a source of strength, a warrior queen who   
could fend off demons and yet provide comfort that flowed from a loving   
heart.  
  
I was thinking this last night when I noticed Kathryn giving Luke Ashmore a   
hug: Luke, his heart still broken from losing his wife to the Borg, and   
Kathryn, the warrior who led that fight, giving him comfort. It crystallized   
for me at that moment: to the crew, Kathryn is Micteacacihuatl, their   
protector, and she knows it. She knows it and she will allow nothing to   
distract her from that role, especially not her own feelings.  
  
I watched her the last two nights as she stood among them, smiling here,   
touching an arm there, even holding Mariah Henley as she cried for Ken   
Dalby. She was a perfect blend of compassion and fortitude and no one ever   
saw how hard it was for her. If I didn't know her as well as I do, I   
wouldn't have seen it. The signs are subtle, but there - a certain look in   
here eyes, a tenseness in her neck and shoulders. She's grieving for every   
crew member who died this year, and for Korok and Lynella and even   
Hernandez. But she knows what the crew expects from her - needs from her -   
and she won't let them down. "It's that simple. She won't let them down.   
She'll just keep her own feelings tamped down so she can be strong for them.  
  
I hoped she would ask me in for coffee after one of the ceremonies and   
unburden herself. It would have done us both good to acknowledge and share   
the pain and yes, the responsibility, we both feel for the events of the   
past year. But she didn't ask, and I didn't push it. I promised her that I   
would wait until she was ready, and I will.  
  
His next words tumbled out quickly, without thought.  
Gods, but I miss her. I miss seeing her come out of the shower in the   
morning, damp and smiling. I miss the way she'd press her icy toes against   
my legs to warm them. I miss waking up in the night and listening to her   
breathe. I miss being able to talk to her about anything, no matter how   
personal or deeply felt. I think she misses me, too, but it has to be her   
decision to change things. If circumstances were different, if we were back   
the Alpha Quadrant, I might try to force the issue, but not here and now.   
There's too much at stake.  
  
He paused and regrouped. He had intended to make a point, not rehash the same   
old arguments.  
That doesn't mean I won't worry about her. I'm already worried about   
tonight's party. It's supposed to be a joyful commemoration of Today, the   
present, and she's not particularly happy about our current state. The ship   
is grounded, repairs are taking longer than we hoped and it's likely to be   
weeks before we can resume our journey. Knowing Kathryn, that's bothering   
her nearly as much as the lost crewmen.  
  
At least she's agreed to let me escort her tonight, although I don't have   
any illusions about what will happen. She will be gracious and cordial, but   
no more so than she will be with anyone else. We'll partner in at least one   
of the group dances, perhaps two. The group dances are safe enough. She   
won't join any of the couples dances. If things become too rowdy, like last   
year, I can get us out discreetly. If nothing else, I can honestly say that   
I wanted a private moment to give her a Prixin gift.  
"The gift." He hefted the box a little, remembering its contents. "I found   
this set months ago, and bought it only because I thought it was pretty and   
would flatter her. Now, I wonder if my subconscious was at work. The necklace   
and earrings are each a strand of flowers, delicate enamel petals hand-painted   
in blazing yellow with red edge. Marigolds. Cempazuchil flowers, symbols of   
Micteacacihuatl, who uses their spicy scent as she guides the spirits in her   
care.  
  
"I wonder if she will accept it. If she feels that it is too intimate a   
present, she may be uncomfortable with it. We're still trying to find our   
footing on the path back to simple friendship. I'll have to remind her that   
I've given her jewelry before. I'm certainly not going to tell her the   
symbolism of the cempazuchili." He smiled. "Somehow I don't think she'd be   
flattered by a comparison to an ancient goddess of death."  
  
He looked at the chronometer again and saw that it was time to leave. Kathryn   
should be ready by now.  
  
"End entry." Still holding the gift box, he left his quarters.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Prixin, Day 5  
  
"I thought you might be out here, Icheb. I've been looking for you."  
  
"I'm sorry, Naomi, I didn't know. Would you like to join me?" He grinned down at   
her. Icheb was perched about a meter above her, on a large outcropping of rock   
set into the hillside above his tent. He had discovered 'his spot' shortly after   
Voyager had landed on New Hope and had immediately claimed it as his own. Naomi   
had started calling it "Icheb's Cliff" and most of the crew had followed suit.   
He could often be found there, especially in the evenings. His evident delight   
in the beauty of his surroundings had resulted in a fair bit of ribbing,   
particularly by Tom Paris, but even being called "Nature Boy" hadn't dissuaded   
him. In fact he had been surprised to find that he rather liked the attention   
and the gentle teasing - it made him feel very much a part of Voyager's family -   
something that had been a long time coming. "Come up Naomi," he repeated. He   
patted a space beside him. "The rock is still warm from the day's sun. And the   
stars are beautiful tonight."  
  
Naomi scrambled up the side of the outcrop, refusing his outstretched hand.   
She'd had a fair bit of climbing practice by now, and knew just where the   
footholds were. She settled in beside him and gazed up at the sparkling sky.  
  
"You're right Icheb," she acknowledged. "It's beautiful."  
  
"Last night Lieutenant Tuvok gave me a book filled with charts and descriptions   
of the Terran constellations as a Prixin gift. It contains a great many details   
about each of them including the legends associated with each one. Some of them   
are quite interesting Naomi. Sea monsters, dragons and flying equines."  
  
"Flying equines?"  
  
He paused for a moment as he remembered what he had read. "I believe the name   
was Pegasus," he said. "And it sprang from the neck of Medusa. A Gorgon." He   
explained when Naomi looked at him in askance.  
  
"A Gorgon?" She repeated. "Medusa? They sound like Delta Quadrant species to me.   
Maybe we should make up legends about the stars above New Hope," Naomi   
suggested.  
  
Icheb looked at her in surprise. "Tuvok recommended I do that too. There is a   
place in the back of the book for notes," he added. "We could write our own   
chapter."  
  
"Let's start with that one," Naomi pointed at a shimmering cluster of stars   
almost directly above them. "What shall we call it?"  
  
"I've already thought of a name for that one." Icheb told her. "Do you see how   
closely the stars are aligned?" he continued. "Yet I can see each star clearly.   
They are individuals, but together they are the brightest constellation in the   
sky."  
  
"Yes...I see that," she responded quietly.  
  
"Voyager." His voice was a whisper. "I call that constellation Voyager."  
  
A comfortable silence rose between them as they both turned their full attention   
to the skies above.  
  
Personal Log: Icheb, Cadet Star Fleet Academy, Stardate 55007  
  
I have enjoyed Prixin this year. In past years I have been...uncomfortable   
during the celebrations, but this year I am not. When I told Naomi how I am   
feeling, she said it is because I am learning to have fun. Perhaps she is   
correct. Certainly last night would fall into the category of fun.   
Lieutenant Kim was in charge of the evening. He and his musicians greeted   
everyone as they arrived with a musical salute. I remember Lieutenant Paris'   
was "Fly me to the Moon" and Neelix' was "A Taste of Honey". Mine was "Climb   
Every Mountain". Lieutenant Kim explained them all when he began the evening   
ceremonies.  
  
I sat with Naomi and her mother, and with Lieutenant Paris - I mean Tom- he   
has asked me to call him Tom - and Lieutenant Torres - B'Elanna - and Miral.   
The infant attracted much attention and Lieut...Tom is very proud of her. I   
believe she is considered quite beautiful, although I'm not sure why at this   
point. She is very small and can be quite odiferous at times. She can also   
produce sounds that are in volume no way related to her size. However Naomi   
has informed me that she is a superb specimen and that she will no doubt   
'grow on me'.  
  
We all gathered around Neelix' buffet as the Captain lit the blue Candle of   
Gratitude. As she lit it, she asked us to think of members of our Voyager   
family who have touched us this year. Of course I thought immediately of   
Naomi. But I also thought of Tom Paris and his family. They have shown me so   
much kindness and attention and I am grateful for it.  
  
The music started playing before we had finished our meal. Lieutenant Kim   
called on members of the senior staff to begin the dancing. Although the   
captain protested that she hadn't danced in a long time, Commander Chakotay   
stood in front of her chair and told her he wouldn't move until she complied   
and asked her "what about the swan". She said that didn't count but he said   
that since she had gotten him to sing on the first night, she owed him. The   
rest of the crew began to applaud and finally the captain stood up, bowed to   
the room and said "uncle", which Ensign Wildman explained to me meant that   
she would dance with him. Lieutenant Kim and his musicians started to play   
some very unusual music, very quickly. Tom told me it is called "The Beer   
Barrel Polka". The Captain started to laugh and took a long drink from her   
goblet, which B'Elanna said she thought contained real Antarian cider. I did   
not say anything, of course, but I know it's entirely possible she was   
right.  
  
Almost everyone danced. Lieutenant Tuvok could not be convinced to try,   
although even the Captain attempted to persuade him. I offered to hold Miral   
while Lieut...Tom and B'Elanna joined in, but they declined my offer and   
showed me how the baby's carrier could be adapted to allow them to   
participate. Naomi insisted I accompany her onto the dance floor, and I did.   
I must admit that at first I was nervous, but in the end I found the dancing   
to be most enjoyable. I noticed quickly that there are no set rules to this   
sort of communal dancing - everyone seems to move to their own rhythm with   
their own style. It was almost exhilarating. I danced with Naomi, with   
B'Elanna and with Ensign Gilmore.  
  
There were many gifts exchanged tonight, but Lieutenant Kim's was the most   
unusual, I think. His gift to Ensign Gilmore was a hard sided helmet and a   
song that he and his musical ensemble played at the end of the evening. He   
explained that he had written it especially for her; that he was going to   
pipe it through the communications system each time she was assigned to an   
away team; and that he hoped each time she heard it she would remember to   
wear her 'away mission gear'.  
  
My gift to Naomi was a replicated copy of a novel from the 19th century,   
called "Little Men". She seemed to be very pleased with my selection. I know   
that she has read another volume by the same author several times. Naomi   
gave me a shell that she collected on the shores of the Narcan Vol Ocean.   
She and her mother visited there several years ago, and I know that trip was   
very special to both of them. When I unwrapped the gift, Ensign Wildman   
explained to me that expedition was the first time Naomi had ever been off   
of Voyager. I will treasure it.  
  
End log.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Day 6 (pre-evening events)  
  
Captain's personal log Stardate 55008.9.  
  
We have now moved well past the midpoint of the Prixin holiday. I've always   
admired the subtle shift from focusing on the past to the present and then   
onward to the future. Secure in the knowledge of being in the arms of   
'family', wrapped up in the comfort of their love, everyone is looking   
forward with joy, knowing that tomorrow will only bring better than today.   
This spirit of optimism is one of the things I admire most about this   
celebration Neelix has introduced us to, perhaps because there are times I   
find it sorely lacking in myself.  
  
But a captain isn't supposed to feel that way. I'm supposed to be looking   
bravely ahead, reminding myself and my crew how truly lucky we are. It's my   
job to reassure them that our future is indeed bright. We may not get home   
as quickly as we had originally anticipated, but even without transwarp,   
it's not going to take us more than another decade. Barring major disaster,   
that is. And even I don't dwell on that possibility for more than a few   
moments in the deepest part of the night.  
  
Somehow, more than any other year, Prixin and its meaning are weighing   
heavily on my mind. Perhaps because this is the first time we've been   
planetbound for such an extended period. It was late summer when we landed   
on New Hope; now the crisp days of fall are rapidly taking on the chill of   
winter. It's been so long since I spent enough time on a planet to actually   
be affected by the seasonal swings. Although there was a point early in the   
journey when I did spend a few months planet-side, living a life wholly   
separate from Voyager-when Chakotay and I were together on New Earth. We   
thought it was going to be for the rest of our lives. But of course, it   
wasn't. No more than those weeks on Gunrath'u were...  
  
I've spent more than half my life on board starships, have gotten used to   
artificial light and re-circulated air as the norm. Fresh air, cool   
breezes...that's what you get while you're on leave. Natural sunshine is a   
luxury, and frankly, with my complexion and tendency to burn, not one I ever   
felt much in need of. Or so I thought.  
  
Earlier today, toward late afternoon, I was seized with the sudden desire to   
go outside the ship, get a breath of air. After a word to Tuvok, I grabbed   
my heavier jacket-once the sun begins to go down the temperature drops   
pretty rapidly-and slipped out the hatch. I walked a few paces away from the   
ship, till I was out from under its shadow. I leaned my head back and felt   
the warmth of the sun on my face.  
  
It's a common fallacy among 'Grounders'-humans who've never been out of   
Earth's own solar system-that a Class M designation for a planet is the same   
as saying it's 'Earth-like.' What the term really means is there is an   
oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere and the median temperature range falls between   
minus 50 and plus 60. There are no guarantees that the flora and fauna will   
be anything that remotely resembles the Terran varieties. In my time I have   
been on many alien worlds, some more or less like the planet of my birth,   
others vastly different. But only once before in the Delta Quadrant have I   
stood on the surface of a world that felt so strongly like home...  
  
The New Hope sky was a delicate apple-green, with just a few wisps of   
clouds. I headed off toward the nearby copse of trees, no real destination   
in mind, other than to stretch my legs for a bit. The tall trunks loomed   
overhead, the deep whorls on the bark of the *alon* trees looking like runes   
carved in a mysterious alien tongue. A bird sang out overhead, and within a   
few seconds it flashed into view, its mauve feathers touched with gold where   
the light hit. It alit on a nearby branch, using its prehensile tail as well   
as its tri-clawed feet. It gave me an almost amused glance before breaking   
into another song. These *tziporim*, as the Vordai call them, remind me a   
little of the Terran mockingbirds, but have a broader range and an even more   
impressive repertoire. I listened as the music came to a halt, and then   
suddenly the creature rose into the air once more.  
  
I rushed after it, into the heart of the forest. I wasn't paying attention   
to where I was going, yet was vaguely aware I was moving farther away from   
Voyager. An occasional flash of purple and rose, once a silky feather   
floating gently down on the mossy trail, were my only indications that I was   
following in the right direction. And then with a burst of song more   
beautiful than any I'd yet heard, just when I was sure I'd finally found it,   
the bird seemed to vanish completely.  
  
I dropped to my knees, suddenly weary. Without quite understanding why, I   
was overcome with a sense of overwhelming loss, and sadness. I took a deep   
breath. It was just the stress of the repair efforts, I told myself. And the   
memories evoked by the Days of Remembrance, and of the Honoring. Remembering   
those of my crew I'd lost, who'd died because I couldn't save them. And at   
that my resolve broke, and I threw myself down and cried.  
  
I don't know how long I lay there among the fallen leaves. After a while the   
tears began to slow, and I felt a curious sense of relief. Maybe I'd just   
needed the release, had kept these emotions bottled up inside me for too   
long. I started to rise, and then I noticed something off to the side of the   
path, which I hadn't been aware of before. I moved a bit closer. It was a   
slender tree, its stature smaller, its color lighter, than any of those   
around it. And at its base there was a cluster of flowers.  
  
Their petals were a blazing yellow, with an edging of red. I'd seen them   
somewhere before-the aeroponics bay perhaps?-and then it hit me. They were   
marigolds. The same flowers as in the jewelry Chakotay gave me two nights   
ago, before the dance.  
  
It sounds strange to say these words even to myself, but at that moment, I   
had a sudden epiphany. That instead of spending the rest of my life   
regretting the past and worrying about the future, of dwelling on everything   
I'd lost-it was time I started learning to enjoy the present, to appreciate   
what I have now. And I do have so very much, perhaps much more than I   
deserve-something so precious I can no longer afford to keep pushing it   
away. To keep pushing him away.  
  
For seven long years, I've been acting as though I could show the breadth of   
my commitment to my crew and ship by the depth of my own unhappiness. So   
wrong, and so unnecessary. It's time for a change.  
  
End log.  
Janeway took one last look at herself in the mirror. At the blue tunic and   
leggings, the only ornament the silvery combadge. She frowned, and then picked   
up the soft pouch that lay on her dresser. She opened it and gently shook out   
its contents into her hand, admiring the vibrant colors and exquisite   
workmanship of the jewelry once more.  
  
She carefully fastened the clasp of the necklace and slipped on the earrings.   
Picking up her hairbrush, she smoothed her hair back and off her face, working   
the shoulder length strands into a soft knot caught at the nape of her neck. She   
smiled as the dancing earrings, now fully visible, caught the light. Tonight   
marked the beginning of the Days of Anticipation. She had some anticipating of   
her own for the evening-the look on Chakotay's face when she told him that the   
seed they'd planted in their Lotos Days had indeed come to fruition.  
  
  
  
  
Personal Log: Noah Lessing, 6th Day of Prixin, Stardate: 55010  
  
It's hard to believe the difference between this Prixin and last year. Last   
year, they started talking about Prixin like we should know what it was, and   
of course we had no idea. We'd been on the ship about five months but we   
still were on the fringe of things. I remember standing between Marla and   
Jim during the Convocation ceremony and feeling like a Vulcan at a Christmas   
dance, wondering what all the fuss was and not knowing the proper steps. It   
didn't help that the crew wasn't exactly ready to welcome the five of us   
from the Equinox into the family fold. And if the Convocation was awkward,   
it was nothing compared to the Days of Remembrance. The recitation of the   
eleven who died because of us was almost unbearable. We didn't show up for   
the next three nights.  
  
Joe Carey talked me into going to the Sixth Day celebration though. 'It's   
about the kids,' he told me, and I went even though I was uncertain of my   
reception. The atmosphere that night was different, though. It was a smaller   
crowd, mostly those who had children back in the Alpha Quadrant, and they   
were relaxed and happy. There's nothing quite like a lot of parents, sitting   
around to swap baby stories.  
  
When it was my turn, I told them about Hannah. I told them the mailbox   
story, from when she was not quite three years old. 'My wife Virginia loves   
antiques,' I said, "and she found an old wooden mailbox at a flea market   
some place. Do you know what a mail box is? It stands on a post about three   
feet high and has a small door in the front, where paper letters were   
delivered. It was Ginny's pride and joy. She painted flowers on the thing   
and had me dig a post hole at the end of the driveway so it could sit just   
where it would have two centuries ago, when mail was delivered by hand. I   
guess that post hole wasn't as good as I thought, though, because one day I   
was mowing the lawn and bumped up against that mailbox with the mower, and   
it just toppled over and smashed into pieces when it hit the pavement. Turns   
out Hannah was watching the whole thing from the window. 'Daddy went vroom,'   
she told Ginny, 'and the mailbox went crack. It was a sad day for the   
mailbox.'"  
  
Everyone laughed. I passed around a picture of my girl, and looked at   
everyone else's pictures. We hadn't received any mail from home yet so   
everyone's pictures were old. We all tried to imagine how the children had   
changed. It was the first time I felt that, perhaps, I could fit in on this   
ship, some day.  
  
I thought about not going tonight, but I had a new picture of Hannah to show   
everyone. She's ten years old now, and so grown up. Looks a lot like Ginny.   
I passed it around and looked at all the others. I told them that Hannah has   
a new name now and is living with her mother and her new father on Luna   
Colony. I didn't tell them that I am grateful for that, because if we make   
it home she won't have to explain to her friends and schoolmates why her   
daddy is probably going to prison.  
  
So I had a good time tonight. Mike Ayala had a picture of his son, and if   
ever a man was about to burst with pride, it was him. There was a picture of   
him with Joe Carey's boys, playing soccer together. Commander Tuvok had   
pictures of his grandchildren. It's hard to think of him as a grandfather.   
You'd think that talking about our kids when we're so far from them would   
make us sad, but somehow sharing these stories and pictures makes them seem   
closer.  
  
And Hannah will always be my little girl. My connection to the future. No   
matter what else happens, that's something I'll always celebrate.  
  
  
  
Day 7  
  
Jenny Delaney was in a hurry. She had requested and pulled double shifts so that   
she would have extra off-duty time during Prixin. She'd spent the morning   
working on several complicated algorithms, which she had finally solved much to   
her satisfaction, and had rewarded herself with a lunch break down by the river,   
reveling in the New Hope sunshine. And now she was late getting back to work.   
She clambered up the steep bank, and decided to take a shortcut through a small   
stand of trees that flanked the riverbed. She'd been through this way before,   
and knew that others had used the same route for the same reason. She made her   
way cautiously through the vegetation, being careful not to get caught on the   
bramble-filled vines that clustered and twisted in and out of the roots of the   
trees. She was congratulating herself on her success when a slight miss-step   
caused an even slighter loss of balance. Unfortunately it was enough. She was   
caught, and there was nothing to do but settle herself carefully down on the   
ground and work herself out of the tangle.  
  
The vegetation wasn't thick and from her vantage point she could see beyond the   
trees to a secluded glade just on the other side of the wood. She wasn't   
unfamiliar with the area - she and several of Voyager's crew had found it to be   
an ideal spot for a bit of solitude, quiet conversation, or even a romantic   
interlude.  
  
The clearing was occupied, which wasn't unusual. But what caught Jenny's eye was   
the cranberry and black of the occupants' uniforms. She leaned forward to find a   
better view, the tangle of vines momentarily forgotten.  
  
She couldn't make out any conversation - if indeed there was any. But it was   
obvious that the two people in the glade were communicating nonetheless. The   
pair was seated close together on a fallen log and the man, whose back was to   
Jenny, had his arm around the woman. She in turn, was relaxed into his right   
side, her head hidden by his shoulder. Jenny watched as he turned toward her and   
she caught a glimpse of a familiar tattoo. The woman shifted slightly to allow   
her companion access to her lips, and Jenny grinned.  
  
"Well, my oh my." Jenny whispered to herself. "It's about time, you two, isn't   
it?" She looked down at her feet, and set about freeing herself. It didn't take   
long. She stood up carefully, turned, and headed back in the direction from   
which she had come. She figured this was one time when taking the long way was   
the best way to go.  
  
  
  
  
Personal log-Thomas Eugene Paris-Stardate 55012.9  
  
It's funny. All my life, I've been part of a family, but tonight was the   
first time I really knew what that meant-in my gut, not just in my head.  
  
Even when I'd screwed up but good and got myself kicked out of Starfleet, my   
parents stuck by me, although they were bitterly disappointed in me. They   
couldn't be any more disappointed in me than I was myself, though. I wasn't   
ready to accept that yet, but they never disowned me, like a lot of people   
said they should. I pretty much disowned myself.  
  
Once I found myself on Voyager, lost in the Delta Quadrant, I adopted Harry   
as my unofficial little brother. Eventually B'Elanna and I found each other   
and started on the road that led to the formation of our own little family.   
But despite exceptions like Seska and Michael Jonas, I already had a family   
in the Delta Quadrant long before B'Elanna and I came together.  
  
With the captain as our "mom," the Voyager crew, both Maquis and Starfleet,   
had turned into a family out here, guarding each others' backs and making a   
home for us on the ship. Maybe that's why, when we encountered Seven and   
Icheb and the Equinox survivors, we were ready to accept them, too. We'd had   
lots of practice with the whole family formation process by then.  
  
I think maybe we owe a lot of that to Neelix and to this Talaxian   
"Celebration of Family" he talked us into celebrating, way back when he   
first came on board. I think we all thought it was a bit silly at first, but   
I can't imagine not celebrating Prixin every year from now on, for the rest   
of my life. Everyone else feels the same way. It's become part of us.  
  
Tonight, since we're planetside, we were able to have a real bonfire for the   
seventh night, not the fake one on the holodeck we had to have every other   
year. Professor Falon Col, the Grevel-Ash ambassador, was a little shocked.   
Her people apparently don't light fires for ceremonies like this. I think   
the captain and commander must have filled her in on the symbolism, though,   
because she seemed okay with it later on. And that was good, because tonight   
was special-Miral Paris, firstborn daughter of B'Elanna Torres and Thomas   
Eugene Paris, was formally inducted into the Voyager family.  
  
It's strange. As special as that moment was, afterwards was when it really   
hit me-what it all meant.  
  
The night air was chilly, but with that huge fire dancing up into the skies,   
we were pretty cozy. B'Elanna was curled up beside me, her head leaning on   
my shoulder, while I held Miral closely in my arms. The blanket was big and   
fit around the three of us, with an extra baby quilt snuggled around Miral,   
of course. We were content just being there together while others stood up   
and shared stories of their families back home in the Alpha Quadrant. While   
I listened to my crewmates' stories, Miral's little face was burrowed into   
my chest. I could feel every precious breath she took. It struck me then,   
with all the force of a fist to the solar plexus, that Miral was a separate   
person in her own right, with her own history. We will have the privilege of   
watching only the beginning of her story, if all goes as it should. Obvious,   
huh? It's not that I didn't realize it before, but this time, with her there   
in my arms, I really felt it. The longer I thought about it, though, the   
more OK it was to me. It's my job, and B'Elanna's, to get Miral started on   
her way, to protect her and teach her until she can stand on her own. That's   
what parents do. Then it's all up to her-including finding someone and   
having her own kids someday, if she wants. I found myself thinking of my   
father, and of all the fathers and grandfathers before us. Did they ever   
have that same moment of realization about what it meant to become the   
father of a new generation of the Paris family? I guess it's foolish for me   
to assume I'm the only one who ever felt this way. Probably they all did at   
one time or another. I just knew that at that moment I would do everything I   
could, sacrifice anything necessary, to give my child the best chance to be   
safe and happy. An awesome responsibility, true, but a privilege-and after   
all the ways I'd managed to mess up my life before Voyager, my accepting   
that task had to classify as a miracle.  
  
We sat there for a long time, B'Elanna, Miral, and I, as the flames of the   
watika wood fire ascended into the night sky, higher and higher, until I   
could barely tell where sparks ended and stars began. Somehow it didn't   
matter.  
  
As much as I love flying through space, if anything happened and we were   
truly planetbound here, I wouldn't feel like I was back in prison, as I   
would have only a few years ago. Now, everything I really needed to make me   
happy was wrapped up in my arms and leaning against my shoulder.  
  
I've even got the little brother, although it's not Harry this time.   
Lieutenant Kim was sitting on the other side of the fire, all caught up in   
Marla Gilmore. This time, the little brother was more than simply   
honorary-or will be, soon.  
  
After Samantha Wildman and Naomi left the gathering, without any   
announcement of the betrothal between Naomi and Icheb that a lot of the crew   
had expected, Icheb came over to sit next to B'Elanna and me. I wasn't   
surprised. He'd already told me of their decision not to go any further in   
their relationship while they were still so young. I know Sam must be   
relieved. He's a pretty wise kid in a lot of ways, smart enough to know he   
isn't ready for that sort of commitment yet, and that Naomi isn't either, no   
matter what she thinks. I'm glad Naomi finally realized it, too.  
  
And even though I'd been intending to keep it hush-hush for a little while   
longer, I decided it was time to announce what my parents had confirmed in   
their last data stream message. With Icheb's consent, as well as my   
sisters', they've instituted legal proceedings to adopt Icheb. Everyone   
expressed surprise, with the notable exception of Captain Janeway. She must   
have had inside info from Dad.  
  
I have a hunch Icheb's going to be able to handle the whole Paris tradition   
a lot better than I have. For one thing, he'll have a big brother to guide   
him. If he wants to know the pitfalls of being a Paris, all he has to do is   
check back on what I did-and just do the opposite. After what he went   
through with his natural parents, though, I'm sure he'll take to being a   
Paris just fine.  
  
Before that happens, we have to get back to the Alpha Quadrant. There's   
plenty of work to do here first, but with Captain Janeway leading us, I know   
we'll get there sooner rather than later. But after we do, I can't imagine   
not celebrating Prixin any more. The folks at home will just have to learn   
how to celebrate it with us-and I'm sure they will.  
  
Because it's all about family. And when you get right down to it, doesn't it   
always end up that way somehow? It took me a long time to figure that out,   
but finally, with B'Elanna's help-not to mention Miral's-I have.  
End Log.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The EMH hummed a snatch of Verdi as he moved about the deserted Sickbay,   
assuring himself that his supplies were fully stocked and in the right place.   
There hadn't been much call for medical services for several weeks, nothing more   
than a strained muscle here or minor laceration there incurred in the course of   
repairing the ship. As expected, he ha treated several cases of upset stomach   
during Prixin, and a fair number of hangovers the day after the Day Four   
Honoring Dance but all in all, nothing too serious had befallen the crew since   
Ensign Gilmore's most recent head injury and the birth of Miral Paris.   
Once, the absence of need of medical services would have prompted him to   
deactivate, but he had long since found more motivation and purpose than that.   
He had Kes to thank for that, he reflected. If she had not encouraged him to   
expand his programming and develop other interests he would still be little more   
than a Mark-1 EMH with poor bedside manner - and a bleak future as a waste   
extraction system maintainer once Voyager returned to the Alpha Quadrant.   
He still missed Kes. And Seven. It was odd to experience Prixin without either   
of them, and odder still to make them both the topic of discussion at a   
ceremony. He had spoken of them at the Day Five dinner when stories were told   
about living family members, especially those who were far away. Sometimes the   
stories could be sad or sentimental, but this year they had been quite lively.   
Although he had begun a story about Kes, it had been interrupted, enhanced and   
continued by Neelix and Paris and others so that in the end it was more of a   
round robin than a personal recollection. The same thing happened when Captain   
Janeway began a story about Seven, although he himself had been the first to   
interrupt her. Remembering, he shook his head at his own temerity. But the night   
had been very informal and the Captain didn't seem to mind.  
As he walked into his office, he realized that he was enjoying the Prixin   
holidays despite the absence of his two dear friends and far more than he had   
expected to only a week ago. The reason for that enjoyment was clear to him.   
Taking his seat behind his desk, he said, "Computer. Open the personal log of   
the EMH."  
  
  
"Log open."  
  
He leaned back, and began recording.  
There's no doubt about it. Thanks to my tact, quick thinking and, dare I   
add, charm, I successfully averted a major diplomatic incident this week. In   
fact I doubt that there are more than three officers on board who could have   
handled it as well. Perhaps not even that many. For now, no one is aware of   
this narrow escape but me; the Captain seems to be somewhat preoccupied,   
probably by the combination of Prixin and the ongoing repairs. There is no   
point in adding to that burden now. I can tell her after the holidays.  
  
We knew the Grevel-Ash would send an observer to New Hope when they assumed   
orbital surveillance; all four worlds send someone to live in that little   
cabin of Jol's during their rotation. The request from the Secretary of   
Commerce to allow their observer to stay on Voyager instead of the shelter   
was immediately recognized for what it was: a blatant attempt to monitor us   
and our compliance with the agreement that allows us to stay here. The   
Grevel-Ash are the most suspicious of the worlds. But, as Captain Janeway   
noted, we can't afford to antagonize them just now. Some of their   
engineering equipment is more compatible with Federation technology than   
that from the other worlds and we need their help.  
  
So, she sent back a message assuring them that their observer was welcome   
and would be afforded every hospitality of the ship. Then she asked me,   
rather than Neelix or one of the other officers, to take responsibility for   
keeping an eye on our guest while she kept an eye on us. My duties in   
Sickbay are fairly light at the moment and I have more time available than   
most of the others, so it was only logical that she should give me this   
assignment. Still, I was gratified that she gave it to me; she obviously has   
confidence in my ability to handle important diplomatic contacts.  
  
Professor Falon Col proved to be like all the other Grevel-Ash we have   
encountered so far: bald, beige and blunt. She's not bad looking; in fact,   
her eyes are quite nice and if she would smile, she might even be pretty.   
Unfortunately, her normal expression appears to be a deep frown. This is, I   
am now convinced, a natural state for her people and not indicative of   
disapproval or unhappiness. It's unfortunate, because it creates the wrong   
impression. I'm now convinced that the Grevel-Ash are naturally fastidious   
and lacking in tact but basically well-meaning. It took a while to get to   
that conclusion, though.  
  
After introductions, which I thought went very well, I escorted her to her   
quarters and gave her some privacy while she unpacked and freshened up. Then   
I returned and gave her a tour of the ship, she did not hesitate to offer   
her opinion on any aspect of Voyager. The problem was that even her positive   
opinions could be considered back-handed compliments.  
  
We began in the mess hall, which was in a state of controlled chaos as   
Neelix and his team got ready for the Prixin First Night celebration. 'It is   
certainly of ample size, but is it always this disordered?' she asked. 'I'm   
accustomed to a somewhat more sanitary approach to food preparation. Perhaps   
you possess less sensitive digestive systems than we do. We are rather   
delicate in that regard.'  
  
Normally Mr. Neelix is the most affable of people, but that comment offended   
him deeply. 'I know it looks disorganized, but the food is handled with the   
utmost care.'  
  
Then Sarexa stepped forward, smiling. 'I assure you, Professor. No one is   
poisoned on this ship by accident.'  
  
I thought it best to leave then, before Professor Col began to think about   
the full ramifications of that statement. We made our way down the decks,   
and she expressed admiration for the Astrometrics Lab although she did tell   
Megan Delaney that a red uniform would suit her coloring better than the   
blue one.  
  
It was the same everywhere we went: every opinion came with a positive and a   
negative. If she was not impressed by our technology, she said so, but   
complimented the décor or some such; if she was impressed, she found fault   
with the aesthetic presentation. In Sickbay, she informed me that the   
inpatient ward captured the aura of the room but the surgery should be   
painted pink. In Main Engineering, she told B'Elanna the impulse engines   
were meticulously maintained but the walls should be green. On the Bridge,   
she told the Captain that the layout was efficient but the carpets were   
dirty.  
  
I began to think it was going to be a long three months.  
  
She came with me to the Opening Night ceremony, wearing a beige dress and a   
huge magenta feather attached to a headband. Its tip bobbed into the face of   
anyone that got close enough to talk with her. A few people tried to engage   
her in conversation but everything she said was either a back-handed   
compliment or thinly veiled insult, depending on the perception of the   
listener; that and the feather discouraged everyone in short order. I gave   
her my grab-bag gift - a rather large stuffed animal that had to be the   
handiwork of Sue Nicoletti. She's made a variety of animals for Prixin over   
the years, although her skills have improved; the first one she made looked   
like a cross between a camel and a dog. This one was a very creditable bear.   
Professor Col accepted it without so much as a word.  
  
By then, I was weary from the effort of charming her and smoothing ruffled   
feathers in her wake, so at the first reasonable opportunity I escorted her   
to her quarters and bid her goodnight. Then I returned to Sickbay and   
dropped into stand-by mode, my own form of regeneration.  
  
I knew there was a problem as soon as I went to pick her up for breakfast.   
When she admitted me to her quarters, her bags were packed and waiting.   
'Please arrange for transportation to the observer's cabin at once,' she   
said to me, rather stiffly.  
  
This was calamitous! The Captain would blame me, and I had no idea what had   
gone wrong. I tried to remain calm. 'Of course. But why?' I asked.  
  
'I will not stay where I am not welcome,' she said. I noticed then that her   
eyes were puffy and bloodshot, as if she had been crying.  
  
'But you are welcome,' I assured her. 'Why would you think otherwise? Has   
someone said something that offended you?'  
  
She drew back, clearly affronted. 'Do not pretend you don't know. I came   
here understanding that I was to be offered full hospitality. Since you have   
reneged on that promise, I have no choice but to leave.'  
  
I had no idea what she meant. We had all made extraordinary efforts to be   
hospitable. 'Please,' I said to her. 'Keep in mind that we are still in the   
early stages of First Contact. I think there has been a misunderstanding of   
some kind. Will you please tell me how we have been lacking as hosts?'  
  
She stared at me, biting her lower lip. 'Is it possible that you really do   
not know? Can you be that ignorant?'  
  
'I assure you,' I said nobly, 'I am that ignorant. Please, tell me.'  
  
Again she looked at me, trying to decide whether or not I was sincere.   
Finally she said, 'You rejected me last night. Rejection by a guest spouse   
is insupportable.'  
  
I swallowed. 'Guest spouse? Me?'  
  
'The Captain said you were my liaison. But last night you left me alone.'   
Suddenly her cheeks flushed and she became quite animated. 'I'll have you   
know that I am a fully wedded woman with three husbands and two co-wives and   
that I am considered extremely desirable in most circles. Why, the Dean   
himself has expressed an interest.'  
  
'I - I'm sure you are,' I said. 'I mean, of course you are.'  
  
I don't think she heard me. She kept talking. 'What's more, it was   
exceptionally gracious of me to accept a guest spouse who has so much hair!'   
And with that, she folded her arms and nodded her head once to emphasize the   
enormity of her effort.  
  
For a moment we stood silently. I wondered whether I should call Commander   
Chakotay, since he has much more experience in cultural misunderstandings   
than I do, but then I realized that this was a problem with a bruised ego, a   
psychological injury I was more than capable of treating. 'I think I see the   
problem,' I said. 'The concept of guest spouse is not part of Human   
hospitality. We take a different approach to such things.'  
  
She looked at me dubiously. 'Do you mean that you aren't capable?'  
  
'I most certainly am capable,' I answered with some pride. 'My programming   
has been enhanced to cover all such activities.' I refrained from dropping   
the names Denara Pel and Tincoo. After all, a gentleman doesn't kiss and   
tell. 'What I mean is liaisons such as that are not usually pre-arranged. We   
prefer them to be more spontaneous and, uh, of mutual determination.'  
  
Looking completely unconvinced, she said, 'That sounds very inefficient. How   
long does it take for spontaneity and 'mutual determination' to reach a   
conclusion?'  
  
I told her that it varies, depending on the people involved - and that   
sometimes, things didn't quite work out. Her lower lip slid a little   
forward. 'I am not accustomed to sleeping alone. And I am to be here for   
three months.'  
  
A lesser man might have crumbled. She does have very nice eyes, and they   
were glistening with tears. Fortunately for me, inspiration struck. 'I've   
got an idea. You don't really want me or any of the others as a guest   
spouse, do you? It's all right, you can be frank.'  
  
'No, but I didn't wish to be rude,' she said.  
  
'Then why don't you send for one of your spouses to join you after all? And   
until then, you can use this.' I picked up the teddy bear that she had left   
on the table. 'It's a talisman for warding off loneliness. Take it to bed   
with you, and it will keep you warm and make you feel less alone.'  
  
She agreed to try it. And since then, I have devoted every moment to   
assuring her comfort and she's been a joy. Well, that may be a bit of an   
exaggeration. At the Fourth Night Dance she told Harry Kim that his jacket   
was well tailored but he'd look better bald. Still, I think we have all   
concluded that she is means no harm and I suspect that it is a cultural norm   
among the Grevel-Ash to provide two-sided opinions on almost everything. And   
it's hard to find too much fault with anyone who thinks I have a lot of   
hair.  
  
Today she received word that her spouse will be here in a week, so she is   
happy. What's more, she told me she thinks the teddy bear is a very   
acceptable custom, so much so that she intends to introduce it into her   
household when she returns to her home. She also has enjoyed our Prixin   
celebrations and says it demonstrates a level of sensibility she finds   
almost comparable to that of her people.  
  
Diplomatic relations with the Grevel-Ash have been salvaged. Prixin   
continued without interruption. And the more I think about, the more I'm   
certain this little incident will make a fine addition to my holonovel,   
although perhaps it could use a little more spice. It would be interesting   
if the alien observer fell in love with the hero. A doomed romance, perhaps,   
because she is already committed to another and she is not free to act on   
her love...she could decide to end her life rather than live without me, uh,   
the hero, but he nobly persuades her to be brave and to go on. Oh yes, that   
has real possibilities.  
  
Perhaps I don't need to mention this to anyone. After all, no harm was done   
and I'm writing a full report on what I've learned about Grevel-Ash customs,   
so the knowledge won't be lost. Yes, now that I think about, there's really   
no reason to bring this to the Captain's attention. All's well that ends   
well.  
  
Oh. It's time to fetch Falon for tonight's ceremony. Computer, end entry.  
  
  
  
  
Jenny laughed heartily as she read the message from Susan. "Hey, Megan, you have   
twelve credits I can borrow?"  
  
Megan opened an eye, then closed it and stretched out on her bed. "Jenny, Jenny,   
Jenny. You still owe me thirty-five from last week."  
  
"It's just twenty-four. I returned eleven."  
  
"Good. Why do you need twelve credits?"  
  
"I just need them."  
  
Megan yawned. "No."  
  
"Please?"  
  
"No." Megan repeated as she rolled over. "And until that alarms goes off, or the   
Captain and Chakotay consummate their relationship, I want to sleep." Her voice   
trailed off, but Jenny wasn't going to let her sister leave her an opening like   
that, and not take it. She laughed.  
  
Megan opened both eyes and glared. "You're damn lucky I don't have a phaser. I   
want a nap before tonight's ceremony. And you're not my alarm clock."  
  
"You forgot the other condition."  
  
"What? Oh." She yawned, and closed her eyes. Jenny waited and counted quietly.   
Megan sat up quickly. "You're kidding, right?  
  
"I have my suspicions."  
  
"Really? Finally?"  
  
Jenny's smile just grew, "Loan me the twelve credits and I'll tell you."  
  
  
  
  
Jenny Delaney's personal log, stardate 55012.1  
  
Well, I finished my dress today. I'll wear it for tonight's Prixin   
celebration, but it is really for our return-to-the-Alpha-Quadrant- parties.   
The Minenne peddler who stationed himself in orbit last week must have done   
a lot of business before being driven off by the Grevel-Ash patrols. I found   
a piece of silk-like material that was gorgeous. I'm glad I bought it. I   
also bought a rare Vordai telescope for Robbie. Least the peddler said it   
was rare and Vordai. Who knows if that is true, but in the Alpha-Quadrant it   
will be unique.  
  
Looks like we'll be missing Robbie's graduation...again. It wasn't our fault   
that Megan and I spent his high school graduation in a Martian jail.  
  
And of course when he got his B.S. we had just been pulled into the Delta   
Quadrant. Poor Robbie.  
  
He was their baby brother: she and her sister had been the studious ones, both   
going to the Academy, while everyone had hoped Robbie would not land in jail   
someplace. This brought a laugh. Instead of Robbie being tossed in jail, she and   
Megan had been the ones.  
It's been eight years since we last saw him. We had arranged to meet after   
our three-week mission. Now I can't wait to see our baby brother.  
She stared at the log, remembering home and family. It must be Prixin, she   
realized. She was always more homesick during Prixin. A change in subject was   
what she need.  
  
Hugh wants to do a play, and Janeway has agreed. He wanted Megan and me to   
be the stars in Two Sisters from Verona-he would have rewritten the play-but   
I'd rather not. Megan instead agreed to play Viola in Twelfth Night. I'll   
help with costumes.  
  
I still need twelve credits." Jenny closed her log. There was still an hour   
to the evening celebrations began...  
  
  
  
  
Personal Log, Samantha Wildman, Seventh Day of Prixin (Days of   
Anticipation). Stardate: 55013  
  
I can't believe tomorrow is the last day of Prixin. It really has gone by in   
a flash this year. Since none of us can be sure we'll be together next year   
to celebrate it, if all goes well with the new, improved slipstream drive,   
this one could be the last one I'd ever celebrate! Of course, next year, we   
could be back home again and celebrate it ourselves when we're a whole   
family again-Naomi, Greskrendtregk, and me. Just the three of us.  
  
Just the three of us. That's really a relief-not that I don't like Icheb, or   
anything like that. I'm happy that Admiral Paris and his wife intend to   
adopt him so that he can have a family of his own. That will be so much   
better than marrying when he and Naomi are both so young.  
  
Naomi wasn't happy when he told her he wanted to take it slowly, but I'm   
glad he was wise enough to realize the truth. He seems much happier since   
she's not pressuring him any more. I admit, that made it easier to tell her   
I could do much worse for a son-in-law, but the truth is, I could-I know   
that. It's just too soon to worry about getting along with a son-in-law!  
  
Right now, I'd rather have a son than a son-in-law.  
  
Day 7 of Prixin always gets me choked up a little. All of the talk about   
future generations reminds me of things I'd rather not remember.  
  
Naomi has never had a 'normal' family life (whatever that is!), not that I   
can say I have, either. After all, I know what it's like to watch my only   
daughter die. If the duplicate Voyager hadn't formed, and if the Harry Kim   
from that other ship hadn't brought her back to me I'd never have gotten to   
know my daughter at all, any more than her father has.  
  
Even when we get back to the Alpha Quadrant, she'll never know her father   
the way Miral Paris, for example, will get to know Tom. I've often wished   
that Greskrendtregk had been aboard Voyager when we were lost, instead of   
patiently waiting for me on Deep Space Nine. Maybe this whole crew would   
have been a little more normal from the beginning! It's pretty incredible   
that after seven years, the only other baby born on this ship-or rather, to   
the crew of this ship-has been Miral Paris, (and she was just born.)  
  
Once we get back home, I'd like to have another baby as soon as we can.   
Greskrendtregk deserves the chance to raise a son or daughter from infancy   
the way I've been privileged to raise Naomi. He's kept true to his   
traditions, remaining alone when he thought I was lost. Getting his family   
back and seeing it grow would be the proper reward for such loyalty.   
Wouldn't that be wonderful?  
  
I hope we get there soon. This new drive has got to work. It seems the   
closer we get to home, the more impatient I am to actually be there. I can't   
take much more waiting. I want to be with my love once again. We all deserve   
that.  
End log.  
  
  
  
  
Late Evening, 7th Day of Prixin:  
  
Chakotay, dressed in only his trousers, strode out of the bedroom into the main   
area of the cabin. Barefoot, he stumbled against a chair in the darkness. It   
would take some time till he was as familiar with the layout of her cabin as he   
was his own, or at least familiar enough to attempt to negotiate the furnishings   
in the absence of any illumination.  
  
"Lights at 5 percent," he said, ignoring the throbbing in his toe, "and open   
personal log of Commander Chakotay and begin recording."  
  
He waited until the computer assured him it was ready and then began speaking.   
"I want this on record, so that if I'm ever tempted to forget it there will be   
something to remind me. Not that I expect to be tempted, but just in case.  
  
"These are the rules I promise to live by: Rule Number One. In matters   
pertaining to this ship, the Captain is always right.  
  
"Rule Number Two. In matters pertaining to this ship, the Captain is always   
right. Except when she's wrong, and then it is the duty of the First Officer to   
tell her so. If she doesn't agree, then she's right."  
  
"Sounds more like a corollary than a separate rule in its own right, if you ask   
me."  
  
He looked up as Kathryn, tying the sash of her robe, came into the room. He made   
a 'shushing' motion with his fingers and continued to speak. "Rule Number Three.   
In matters pertaining to her personal life, Kathryn can be a little slow and   
requires great patience. Remember that patience is a virtue."  
  
"Slow...I wouldn't exactly call it that," she said, with just a hint of   
indignation in her voice. She came up to him and slipped her arms around his   
waist. "I just like to take the time to consider all of my options. Carefully."  
  
"Seven years is more than slow," he shot back. "We're talking a glacial pace."  
  
She shrugged and turned away. "That's what I get for falling for someone whose   
first love was archeology," she said ruefully.  
  
He raised a questioning brow. "What's wrong with that?"  
  
"Absolutely nothing." She settled herself on the couch and gave him a smile.   
"And I'm grateful for your patience."  
  
He sat down beside her. "I'm grateful for your 'strong decision making skills',   
that once you decide on a course of action, you follow it whole-heartedly."  
  
"I like your choice of words," she said approvingly. "But, I'm interrupting.   
Please, do go on with your list. It's most interesting."  
  
"Rule Number Four," he said, drawing her head down onto his shoulder. "Kathryn   
has a particularly sensitive spot just behind her left earlobe and another one   
on the back of her right knee."  
  
"What kind of a rule is that?" she said, sitting up and giving him a look.  
  
"You're right-it is more of an observation."  
  
"Besides," she added, "I don't think there's any danger of your forgetting that   
minor detail any time soon."  
  
"Minor detail? You mean you won't let me forget," he said, pulling her close   
once more.  
  
She tweaked his ear playfully. "Let's just say I'll give you ample reminders."  
  
"Just drop the Queen of Hearts here and there around the ship. I'll remember   
what it means." She chuckled at his reference to the message she had left for   
him at the Plor space station.  
  
He held up one finger, signaling for silence. "Rule Number Five. Dogs are   
superior to cats, and to all other forms of domestic pets." He paused and waited   
for her nod of approval.  
  
"Rule Number Six. I am the luckiest man in the four quadrants of this galaxy and   
if I ever forget that, I deserve to be spaced."  
  
"And if I ever allow our professional relationship to affect our personal lives,   
I'm the one who should be sent EVA without a suit." Her arms dropped to her lap   
as she continued in a whisper, "I've made that mistake before."  
  
He didn't pretend to misunderstand her. "The very first time we encountered the   
Borg."  
  
She nodded. "You disagreed with a command decision, and I took it as a personal   
betrayal. And that wasn't the only time." She smiled humorlessly. "All these   
years, I was afraid to get involved with you, afraid that it would adversely   
affect the ship. There were some lines that shouldn't be crossed, I said...and   
as it turned out, I was the one who crossed them."  
  
"Come with me," he said. Taking her hands, he stood and pulled her with him,   
turning so they faced the window. In the deep night, the embers of the bonfire   
still glowed, and in the soft light they could see the silhouettes of two or   
three crew, standing watch. In spite of the chill air, about half a dozen tents   
had been raised for those who wanted to sleep near the fire. Beyond them, the   
only way to distinguish the land from the sky was by the stars.  
  
Chakotay stood behind her, then wrapped his arms around her waist as they gazed   
out at the night. "They're our family, Kathryn, and we have to do our best for   
them. But we can do it together. I know we can."  
  
She relaxed, just a fraction. "You know it's not going to be easy."  
  
His lips twitched slightly. "Kathryn, nothing about our relationship has ever   
been what I'd call easy."  
  
She turned in his arms till she was facing him. "In that book which is my   
memory," she said softly, "on the first page of the chapter that is the day when   
I first met you, appear the words ...Here begins a new life."  
  
He recognized the words; she'd lent him her Dante before. His arms tightened and   
he pressed a kiss to her hair. "We should get some sleep," he said quietly.  
  
Nodding, she pulled free of his embrace but held on to his hand. "Computer, dim   
lights." Together, they went into the bedroom.  
  
And two seconds later, Chakotay returned. "End entry. Close log."  
  
From the other room, Kathryn laughed softly. "You'll have to edit that   
tomorrow."  
  
"Just as long as we don't hit the reset button this time," he said, joining her.  
  
"I agree," she said. "From here on in, there's no going back."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Prixin: Day 8  
  
This year the entire crew was present for the Prixin closing ceremonies. The   
captain had given her permission and had also approved the venue.  
  
They were gathered once again around the roaring flames of a magnificent   
bonfire, which had been built in the center of the New Hope compound. The fact   
that they were planet bound, and the warmth of New Hope nights had led them to   
break with tradition and hold the closing ceremonies out of doors. They had   
feasted, feted and celebrated and the evening was almost over.  
  
Neelix had spent the night bustling to and fro between the mess hall and the   
festivities, but now he made his way cheerfully through the throng, accepting   
kudos and compliments as his due. He gestured to Naomi, who was sitting with   
Icheb and Sam watching as the sparks from the flame of the fire danced and   
sparked their way towards the sky. She withdrew herself reluctantly from the   
warmth of her companions and accompanied Neelix to the outer edge of the   
haphazard circle that had formed naturally around the fire.  
  
The small table, with the Prixin candelabra was prepared and waiting. The   
candles were melted down to a fraction of their original size, but each one was   
still burning, protected by small glass lantern covers set carefully into slots   
carved into the candelabra. Together Neelix and Naomi carried the table easily   
to the center of the circle.  
  
Janeway, who had been circulating through the crowd all evening, Chakotay at her   
side, seemed more relaxed than she had been in months, and rumors were starting   
to emerge. She was aware of them, and of the general reaction to the news of her   
- well, she wasn't quite sure what to call it yet - change in status perhaps?   
She smiled to herself at the thought. It was definitely that, she decided. A   
change. She and Chakotay had barely had time to discuss their relationship, it   
was so new, but they had talked about possible crew response and what to do   
about it. Well, she thought again, she had talked and Chakotay had just sat and   
listened. Finally, he had placed a finger on her lips to quiet her and said   
simply "Kathryn, of course they're going to talk. They've talked about us for   
years. Let them."  
  
He was right, she decided. Let them talk. We'll be a hot topic for a minute or   
two and then the subject will change.  
  
Neelix appeared at her elbow.  
  
"Captain, are you and the Commander ready?"  
  
"Of course Neelix," she replied immediately "And have I told you how wonderful   
tonight has been?"  
  
"Yes Captain," he replied. "You did. But I thank you again."  
  
He handed her the Prixin triangle and beater and she paused for a moment -   
watching as the flame from the fire reflected off the silver alloy. Then she   
raised the instrument above her head and struck it three times. The pure sound   
penetrated the hum of the crowd and the crackle of the fire easily.  
  
Janeway, Chakotay and Neelix approached the ceremonial table and the crowd   
stilled. "We, Voyager's family of the stars, are gathered tonight to end the   
festival of Prixin."  
  
Janeway's voice was warm and steady. The crew had drawn together and now formed   
a tight circle, surrounding the flames of the fire and of the flickering   
candles.  
  
"Although this is the end of our celebrations, it is the beginning of our   
future." She reached out and took Chakotay's hand - surprising herself almost   
more than anyone else. But it seemed the right and natural thing to do.  
  
"We had traveled many light years since our last celebration, and we have many   
more to travel before we reach our goal. But now, thanks to each and every   
member of this community, we are closer to our home in fact and in spirit than   
ever before."  
  
She looked out at her crew, almost all of whom had followed her example and   
joined hands, and took a deep breath to calm the rush of emotion that suddenly   
to threatened to overwhelm her.  
  
"This past week, and tonight, we remember those who are no longer with us; we   
honor our families and our friends who are with us in person and in spirit; and   
we celebrate our future and the future of our children." Neelix handed her a   
candle douser fashioned of the same alloy as the other Prixin ceremonial   
objects.  
  
She turned to the candelabra and carefully extinguished each candle.  
  
"We douse the candles of Prixin with joy and with sorrow.   
With laughter and with tears.   
We douse the candles of Prixin with trust in tomorrow.   
With hope and with fears.   
We douse the candles of Prixin with pain and with pleasure   
With faith and with pride.   
We'll light more candles for Prixin.   
Together. We'll treasure   
The light they provide."  
  
  
  
  
  
Addendum: Joe Carey, Jenny Delaney (Christina); Tom Paris, Samantha Wildman,   
Harry Kim (Jamelia);B'Elanna (Juli17); Tuvok, Janeway, (Rocky);   
Janeway/Chakotay(Penny Proctor & Rocky); EMH, Falon Col, Noah Lessing, Sarexa,   
Chakotay (Penny Proctor); Icheb, Naomi, Neelix (CyberMum).  
  
Notes:  
  
Prixin: A Holiday of Family  
  
The Talaxian holiday of Prixin is an eight day festival that celebrates family,   
whether immediate, extended or honorary. It is a time of reflection, song, dance   
and food. A ceremonial candelabra in the shape of an equilateral triangle is   
used; there is a tall white candle in the center of the triangle and the three   
points marked by shorter candles of red, blue and green. The triangle represents   
the three aspects of life - past (Memory); Present (Gratitude) and Future   
(Hope), anchored in the center by Family.  
  
In Talaxian families, the celebrations last all day for each of the eight days.   
When the USS Voyager adopted the holiday, some modifications had to be made.   
Most notably, the celebrations are limited to evening ceremonies and functions.  
  
Food is an important part of Prixin. The traditional foods are roast game, fruit   
compote in moolt sauce, dusky tubers and trove bars. Each family adds its own   
unique and special food to its traditional celebration.  
  
DAY 1: CONVOCATION  
  
The Day Of Convocation opens the festival. An elder of the family reads the   
traditional Opening Blessing, and then lights the Family Candle (the white   
center candle), which will remain burning for the entire 8 days. The family   
mingles over the evening meal, usually a buffet. It is common (but not ritual)   
for Prixin songs to be sung this night. "Grab bag" gifts are distributed;   
everyone must make an item (no replication or store-bought gifts!) and   
contribute it to the bag, then pull one out. Grab bag gifts are typically small,   
often humorous, and not made with any particular recipient in mind. Everyone   
gets a grab bag gift to help start the holiday spirit.  
  
DAYS 2-3: DAYS OF REMEMBRANCE  
  
The Days of Remembrance are the most solemn of the festival; it is the time to   
reflect upon and share memories of those who have died. The Memory Candle (small   
red candle) is lit by the eldest member of the family at the beginning of Day 2.  
  
On Day 2, the main ceremony is the Recitation. The names of the family members   
who have died since the last Prixin are said out loud. Sometimes all the names   
are read by one person, sometimes, the name of the deceased is spoken by the   
person who was closest to him or her so that many voices are heard. The   
Recitation is followed by a formal candlelight dinner that is intended to be   
reflective; this meal traditionally includes a single glass of red wine. Often   
there will be a formal musical presentation by the better performers in the   
family during or after the meal, featuring songs or instrumentals that enhance   
the mood of solemnity and reflection.  
  
On Day 3, the mood lifts a bit and the gathering tends to be short. Dinner is   
informal, with tables arranged in a large circle so everyone can see everyone   
else. Mashed tubers or game and tuber hash traditional. During the meal, 4 or 5   
people take turns standing in the center and relating a story about a deceased   
member of the family who was special to them. The stories can be inspirational,   
humorous, wry, or whatever best reflects the point of the story. The story   
tellers all know of their role in advance so they have a chance to prepare.  
  
DAYS 4-5: DAYS OF HONORING  
  
The Days of Honoring are to acknowledge current family members who have   
particularly touched us during the past year, and are typically the most raucous   
of the entire festival. On Day 4, the blue Gratitude Candle is lit and a dance   
is held. There is a buffet on the side and an ample supply of hard cider and   
other spirits. This is the night that personalized gifts may be exchanged.  
  
On Day 5, the dinner tables are again arranged in a circle so that stories about   
living family members may be told (usually, no more than 5). These stories all   
tend to be light, even teasing although occasionally someone may slip in an   
emotional tribute. This night also tends to be short, as celebrants often still   
feel the effects of the night before. On Voyager, Day 5 is usually dedicated to   
the crew rather than family in the AQ.  
  
DAYS 6-7: DAYS OF ANTICIPATION  
  
The Days of Anticipation are to celebrate children and the future of the family.   
The green Renewal Candle is lit.  
  
In Talaxian tradition, the Days of Anticipation revolve around the children of   
the family, with games and events geared for them. Day 7 was the day for   
announcement of engagements and pregnancies and for the formal induction of   
infants into the family.  
  
Because of its circumstances, Voyager had to make some changes to the Days of   
Anticipation, and these days tend to be unstructured apart from the family   
dinners. Day 6 became a pot luck dinner using family recipes; no formal ceremony   
occurred. After dinner, Neelix usually organized games of charades, cards or   
other small group activities and sometimes spontaneous songfests break out.  
  
Day 7 had special gifts for the children (first Naomi, then Naomi and the   
Borglets while they were on board). Neelix always gave an opportunity for   
announcements, but they have rarely been made until this year, when Miral Paris   
was formally inducted. There was also an opportunity to tell stories about   
family back in the AQ, especially after regular contact with Starfleet came   
about. People were encouraged to share their "New Year's resolutions."  
  
DAY 8: Closing Ceremony  
  
The Closing ceremony is short. After dinner, family stands in a circle and links   
arms or holds hands; the Prixin hymn is sung and the elder who read the Opening   
Blessing recites the Closing Benediction and extinguishes the four candles.  
  
Penny Proctor  
  
  
  
Next: Into the Night. It's time. After nearly 6 months on New Hope, Voyager is   
ready to start her return voyager home. Well, almost ready. 


End file.
